Letting him go
by Ivy Applewhite
Summary: It is early summer, 1989. Harry Potter is eight years old, and trying to endure summer at his horrible muggle relatives. In a bout of accidental magic, he is transported far away. Who is to come get him, if not Professor Severus Snape? Warnings: see ch 1
1. Accidental magic

**Welcome! Or something.  
>This is the first of my fics I've ever published, and also my first go at anything like this. Short summary:<strong>

**_It is early summer, 1989. Harry Potter is eight years old, and trying to endure summer at his horrible muggle relatives. In a bout of accidental magic, he is transported far away. Who is to come get him, if not Professor Severus Snape? _**

**This is a guardian-fic, as you might've guessed by now :)) I do hope you enjoy it, and please leave a review! I always enjoy contructive criticism.**

**WARNING: This story contains some scenes of corporal punishment. I do not condone in this sort of thing, but my version of Snape might have different views. If this offends you, just skip those parts or stop reading. Not a problem, and there are loads of other stories out there for you to read. Thanks!**

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><p><em><strong>BLACK<strong>_

_**to be**_

_**FREED**__**?**_

_After the question arose __four weeks ago whether or not Sirius Black had committed the crime he was sent to Azkaban for, the Ministry launched a full inquiry, reports Angela Harrison. Due to a recently developed change of Ministry procedures, Black shall in the near future be retrieved from the prison in order to be interrogated under the influence of Veritaserum. A number of the most trusted Aurors will carry out the task, and we are all eagerly awaiting the truth. The Daily Prophet has been unable to receive full information about what actually happened that awful night eight years ago, but it has been confirmed that if Black's statement will turn out as believed, he will be released. Around the country, people are beginning to lose trust in the Ministry, as-_

Severus Snape crumpled the paper in his hands, though his face remained placid as ever. Mere moments later, the Prophet was lying among the spitting flames of the Potions Master's hearth, the edges curling as it slowly disintegrated into greyish ash. The taut wizard was sitting rigidly in a wing backed chair, his dark eyes boring furiously into the fire, staring at the spot where the paper had been only minutes before. The possible release of Sirius Black didn't exactly shock him: there had been rumours circulating among the staff at Hogwarts for some time now, even though the Headmaster refused to share his opinion on the matter. The question now, Snape thought, was what would happen with the boy. The Potter whelp. He snorted in contempt. Black's naïve mind would most likely drive him to seek out the child the moment the Dementors let him, probably scaring the boy out of his wits. Not that Severus disagreed: a little fear would be healthy for the son of the arrogant James Potter. Rarely did it enter his mind that Harry was also the son of Lily. The thought that she would have had James' child was so repulsive to the professor that he refrained from thinking too much about the late Lily Evans at all.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes and quite effectively banned all such thoughts from his mind once again, before rising to head to his lab. He had a potion brewing that would need supervising, and was rather eager to get away from wherever the Headmaster might disturb him. Though, surely, he would be praising and talking cheerfully of the beloved Marauder with some other delusional member of the staff. Shaking his head ever so slightly, the Head of Slytherin House made his way out of his quarters and into the small lab. The only place where he could ever truly feel at ease.

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><p>Harry Potter was sitting on a swing in a playground a few houses down from where he lived with his aunt, uncle and cousin. The toes of his worn sneakers made swirly patterns in the sand as he slowly moved back and forth, the chains whimpering every now and again. He was small for eight years, and sat hunched, staring into the ground, as if wanting to appear even smaller. A pair of thin, round glasses sat perched precariously on his small nose, and with his head bowed, he was forced to keep pushing them up to his eyes as they started slipping down. The mop of dark hair on his head was pointing in every imaginable direction, and he'd long given up trying to make it look <em>presentable<em>. That was, at least, the word Aunt Petunia had used. He had never really understood his relatives. They were always so keen to appear perfectly normal, but Harry had always thought their efforts made them seem decidedly abnormal.

Harry heard voices nearby, and his small head snapped up, causing the swing to rock with small screeching noises from the rusty chains, and his slight frame to follow. Closing in on him, just arriving by the gate of the playground, was Dudley and his gang of thick-headed friends. Well, friends mightn't be the correct term, but that's what the lump of a boy saw them as, in any case. It was obvious the only reason they were here was to torment Harry, and the smaller boy felt his heart plummet. He had hoped he'd be safe here, as the others rarely ventured outside this time of the afternoon (this time, meaning tea-time). Tensing his muscles, he eyed them silently as their smirking faces became discernable. Before he knew it, they were right in front of him, Dudley the closest.

"What're you doing, freak?" he asked with appreciating snickers from his entourage. Harry didn't respond, but just looked past his cousin, staring intently at a spot a few metres behind the boys.

"Leave me alone," Harry muttered, still refusing to look at the other kids, who were all pretty much twice the size of him.

"Yeah, sure," Dudley smirked.

"Just go, Dudley," Harry grumbled, meeting his eyes now. "I didn't do anything."

"Ooh, he didn't do anything," he mimicked, as his friends laughed. What an idiot, Harry thought. "Your mum not teach you to not muck with people who're better than you?" Harry clenched his hands into fists and rose. Before they could grab him, he turned sharply and began running. Surprise and speed were his only advantages, and he'd clambered over the fence and sped off across the road before Dudley had even realised he'd moved. Usually, when this happened, the others let him be. But apparently, they weren't in that kind of mood that evening. They started running after him, and thought Harry was faster than Dudley (_a lot_ faster), some of his friends might catch up. Panic started to creep its way through his skin and into his flesh, and he felt sweat bead under his fringe. Scratching a bit at his scar, he kept running, not looking where he was going. Eventually, he arrived in an alley, and realised he had nowhere to go. Breathing heavily, he stared with wild eyes around him. He could hear the boys coming closer, and not knowing what to do; he closed his eyes and just wished it was all a dream.

Suddenly, it felt as though something tugged at him from inside. The feeling was followed by the sensation of being pressed through a tube, and when Harry opened his eyes again, the alley had gone. He was standing on a deserted street, with rows and rows of dull, quiet houses along it. He seemed to have arrived at some rundown part of a small street; he could see the livelier and brighter part of it further ahead. The question was: how had he got there? Strange things had happened before, especially when he'd been chased by his cousin, but he'd never been transported far away like this. Since he was little, he'd been convinced it was magic. Unfortunately, telling his relatives this had been a bad idea. They'd been so angry, shouting at him that magic _did not exist_. Harry wanted to believe differently, he really did, but what proof was there? Apart from the fact that strange things happened to him. After all, he was a rather strange child. At least that was what he'd been told.

After turning around, he realised he was obviously at the end of the street. Deciding it wouldn't do to stay in that horrid place, he started walking towards the people further down the street, the panic easing away. Why he should feel safe in such a place he did not know. All he knew was that he was away from Dudley. From the looks of it, _very_ far away.

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><p>Just as Severus was sitting down to have his dinner, there was a knock on his door. There was only one person who would visit at this time, and it would hardly be a social call. Sighing deeply, he flicked his wand and the door swung open, framing Professor Albus Dumbledore, who was dressed in deep blue robes, his twinkling eyes sharp and alert behind the glasses he wore.<p>

"Severus, my boy," he greeted, inviting himself inside and closing the door behind him. "I see I have interrupted your dinner. My apologies."

"What may I do for you?" Snape asked, ignoring the Headmaster's words. Dumbledore twinkled some more before walking into the room and seating himself on the couch.

"I trust you have read the article about Sirius' trial," he said, eyeing his Potions Master carefully.

"I may have seen the headline," Severus nodded.

"I'm glad the truth will finally be known," Dumbledore said with a small, uncharacteristic sigh.

"Headmaster, what is the reason for your visit? I trust you did not call on me simply to discuss the incompetence of Ministry officials."

"Not at all, Severus, not at all," he hurried to assure the irritated man. "As a matter of fact, I only a few minutes ago received some rather alarming news from the dear Mrs Figg." Severus' eyes narrowed considerably.

"What about?" Of course, there was really only one reason why the Squib would contact Dumbledore.

"It seems," he began again, a trace of concern lacing his soft voice, "that Harry has gone missing." At first, Snape was unsure of how to react at this revelation. Of course, he didn't care at all about that stupid child, and if the Wizarding world never had to see him it would be all the better. But still, Harry was the only living link that existed to Lily. Severus had never considered Petunia as Lily's sister. That they could be related was completely unfathomable.

"Missing, headmaster?" he finally said, making sure his face expressed none of his true feelings, and speaking as if they were conversing about a misplaced item.

"Indeed, Severus," Dumbledore nodded. "No one seems to have seen him since he ran into an alley a few houses down from the Dursleys."

"He can't have just disappeared, Albus," Snape exclaimed, rather irritated now. "There are protections on the house, wards you cast yourself!"

"I am aware of the safety measures taken, Severus," Albus said calmly. "The only explanation I can see, is that Harry must have apparated." Oh, of course. The child would have apparated. Because it wasn't possible he'd been abducted by someone. No, Apparating as an eight-year-old, on his own, was a lot likelier. Severus snorted.

"Are you certain?" he asked, his voice sceptic.

"I see no other explanation," Albus repeated.

"Headmaster, did it occur to you that someone may have abducted the child?"

"I would have known."

"Are you sure?" Albus stared intently at the man before him.

"Yes, Severus, I am sure." Running a hand down his tired face, Snape rested his eyes pensively on the old wizard sitting on his sofa.

"And what is being done so locate the boy?" he eventually asked, leaning against the tabletop and crossing his arms across his chest.

"There are traces of magic near the place where he was last seen by a young couple, but it is too raw and inexperienced to lead us anywhere."

"So, in short," Snape started, feeling more and more aggravated by the moment, "Potter has disappeared by magic, and we have no idea where to?" This seemed, to him, a terrible flaw in the Headmaster's 'powerful wards'.

"Oh, I don't know about that." Once again, the man's words seemed to confuse rather than enlighten, and the Potions Master gave an exasperated huff, something he only ever did in the company of Albus Dumbledore.

"Do elaborate," he drawled in feigned disinterest.

"It is obvious, I think, that Harry was quite distressed at the time of Apparition. As you are very well aware, Severus, he would have been transported somewhere where he'd feel safe."

"The child knows no other place than his home in Privet Drive, Albus," Snape pointed out.

"Perhaps not consciously…"

"Exactly what is your point?" His dinner was completely cold by now, but Snape had lost all interest in it. He didn't, however, allow himself to admit that he was concerned for the boy. Merlin, no, not at all. All he did was cause trouble for the rest of the wizarding world.

"I believe he might be in Godric's Hollow. Either there, or at some other place connected with the Potters." Snape pondered this for a moment.

"I doubt he'd be at the place where his family was murdered," he decided after a few moments, and pursed his lips.

"It is also the place where he lived his first year, and where he made history," Dumbledore added.

"I still don't find it particularly likely," Severus stated firmly, absolutely certain he was correct in this assumption.

"And where do you suppose his magic may have transported him?" Albus enquired, looking almost amused. Severus almost shrugged.

"How am I to know? But I seriously doubt he would have some wish in his subconscious to go back to the place where all of this happened." Dumbledore eyed him for a moment.

"Perhaps not. Well, I suppose he might have ventured to his mother's old home."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes, I think that's possible," he said, nodding to himself and completely ignoring Snape's comment.

"Headmaster…"

"I must ask you a favour, Severus." At once, Snape knew he would not like it. He knew it would not be at all pleasant for him, he knew he'd fight it, and he knew the Headmaster would eventually persuade him.

"What is it?"

* * *

><p>On a low bench by a bus stop sat the small boy, sitting on his hands, looking around with mild interest. There wasn't really anything to do, but he felt surprisingly content. The fact that there was no Dudley or Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia nearby to chase him and make life horrid made things very different. He knew he'd have to go back eventually, but while he was away he was determined to enjoy himself. Somewhere deep down, he started to imagine what it would be like to live with a family who actually liked him. To not have to cook for them every morning, not wash the car every week, not sneak out of his cupboard in the middle of the night for a snack when he wasn't given dinner… Involuntarily, an imagined image of his parents wandered into his head. He didn't even know what they'd looked like, what they'd been like. Harry felt so wretched for not remembering them, even though he knew he was being silly: he'd only been a year old when they'd died, of course he couldn't remember them.<p>

Kicking a stone out from beneath him, he sighed a bit, and looked around. It was getting darker as the sun descended behind the houses, and children around him were being called inside by their parents. The action made his stomach hurt, and he watched with envy in his eyes as a young girl was hoisted up on her father's shoulders and carried giggling inside, the door shutting behind them. A shiver rushed through his body as the sunshine disappeared behind a large tree and he was left sitting in the shade on an almost empty street. Now, he didn't feel comfortable at all. But still he did not want to go back to the Dursleys. In fact, after these few hours of freedom, he wanted to never go back there ever again. The feeling was so powerful; he had to bite his lip. A movement far to his left caught his eye, and he turned his head in that direction.

Far away, he could see a man, walking briskly along the hot, dusty tarmac towards him. Harry looked in the other direction, and as there was no one there, concluded the man must be heading for him. Had he trespassed, maybe? Was he not allowed on that street? Feeling exceedingly nervous now, the boy chewed his lower lip furiously, and felt his palms sweat under his thighs. As the man drew closer, Harry could see he had longish black hair, hanging like curtains around his angular, pale face. His eyes were hard and dark, and he was dressed in black from head to toe. It seemed strange to Harry that he'd wear such a long dark cloak in the middle of the summer, but he couldn't bring himself to be frightened of the man.

When the man was only about twenty metres away, he made eye contact with the boy. Harry stared intently, and the man didn't lower his gaze either as he kept his pace up. Before Harry could do much else, he was standing a mere few feet away from him. Towering over the boy, his hair fell forward into his face.

"Hello," Harry said in a small voice, mentally berating himself for sounding like such a child. He didn't want to appear scared to this stranger. What if had come to take him? The tall man didn't say anything, but still stared at Harry as if he were examining some highly interesting object. "Erm…"

"How very eloquent," the man sneered in a voice that made Harry hunch into an even smaller form. Harry didn't know what eloquent meant, but didn't say so.

"What's your name?" The man appeared to be completely taken aback by this simple question.

"My name?" Harry nodded. Even though the man was a bit scary, after all, and _did_ look a bit like a giant bat, he was interesting, and Harry's curious side won over the rest of him. "I really don't believe that is of importance," the man said silkily, "and _you_ should be answering questions for _me_, Mr Potter." Harry's mouth fell open when his name was uttered.

"How do you know my name?" he breathed in disbelief, feeling rather uneasy. The man's eyes darkened.

"I thought I made it perfectly clear that I would be asking the questions here," he snapped, and Harry flinched slightly.

"Sorry, sir," Harry hurried to say, deciding that he'd better just treat this person with respect until he knew who he was. And what he wanted.

"What are you doing here?" he was asked, the man having completely ignored Harry's apology. Harry wasn't sure how to answer. The way the question was said made him think the man already knew Harry was far away from home. But should he really be giving him any details? What if he actually was some crazy bloke who'd come to take him?

"Nothing."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Potter," the man growled. Merlin? Harry was confused. "How did you end up here?"

"I dunno…" The boy answered honestly. Because he didn't really. It had just sort of happened. Not that he wasn't grateful. At least he could do just about whatever he fancied here.

"Were you feeling unsafe, or scared?" he asked, and then continued, speaking more to himself than to the boy; "Accidental magic sometimes-"

"Accidental what?" Harry said, completely forgetting that it was very rude to interrupt someone speaking. The man seemed to know this as well, as his hard eyes flashed in annoyance.

"Do _not_ interrupt me," he said firmly. Harry bobbed his head up and down and bit his lower lip to refrain from saying anything else. Suddenly, a frown appeared on the face in front of Harry, and he was immediately worried that he'd upset the man. "Accidental magic," he repeated.

"Magic?"

"Yes, magic," he snapped, feeling very fed up with the boy's insolence.

"Magic doesn't exist," Harry said quietly, but rather firmly. This was what the Dursleys had told him his entire life. Magic did not exist. It wasn't real. It felt odd to hear a grown man talk so casually about it.

"What are you talking about, Potter?"

"Magic isn't real," he tried to explain, feeling very much as though he was talking to a child now, rather than the other way around.

"Magic isn't… What do you know of your parents?" The sudden change of subject took Harry completely by surprise, and he raised his eyebrows.

"My mum and dad?"

"They would be your parents, yes," the man said in an impatient voice.

"Not much… They died in a car crash because my dad was drunk and-"

"_What?_"

"What? That's what Uncle Vernon told me," he added, feeling confused.

"Potter…" To Harry's surprise the man hesitantly sat down beside him, turning his head to the right to look at Harry. "Potter, your parents were wizards." Harry stared openly.

"W-what?" His green eyes widened considerably as he stared innocently into the colder eyes of the man beside him.

"Wizards," he repeated. "Your… father was a wizard, and your mother a witch."

"Don't call her a witch," Harry frowned.

"It's not an insult, you foolish boy," the man growled. Harry scowled at the man, and kicked another stone out from under the bench. "I knew her." He snapped his head up and met the stranger's gaze again.

"You knew my mum?" The man nodded. "What was she like?" Harry had forgotten not to ask questions: he simply couldn't help himself.

"Exceptional," the man said quietly, and Harry thought he looked different all of a sudden. Softer. But the look was gone in a flash, and the man shook his head slightly. "Mr Potter, my name is Professor Snape." So the man was a professor. Harry wasn't entirely sure what that entailed, but it did sound impressive. "I work at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Harry gasped. There was a school, too? A school that taught _magic_? He had many a time imagined things like that, but never dared utter the words in fear of vexing his relatives.

"Did my parents go there?" he asked in a small voice. Snape seemed a bit displeased at the question, but, luckily, he answered:

"Yes, they did. And so will you."

"But I'm not a wizard," Harry informed him solemnly.

"Yes, you are." Silence for a moment.

"No, sir, I'm not."

"Potter, how do you think you ended up here if not by magic?" Snape said, impatient once again. Harry really didn't have an answer for that. "And I am certain you have experienced other seemingly strange things in the past few years. Things you couldn't explain." This was true. Harry had disappeared in similar ways before, but not as far as this time. And once when Aunt Petunia had cut his hair very short, it had grown out to its original length over night. She'd been so angry… Maybe he did have magic after all… But would his aunt and uncle allow him to go to this school, this Hogwarts? Strange name…

"Potter…" He was snatched out of his thoughts by Snape's voice.

"Sir."

"Your relatives-"

"What about them?"

"Don't interrupt," Snape said forcefully, yet again reminding the boy of how to behave himself.

"Sorry…"

"Your relatives, do they treat you badly?" Harry bit his lip. He'd never really thought about it. Of course, he knew he was treated… differently. Uncle Vernon was always so proud of Dudley, but always so displeased with Harry. They often _forgot_ to give Harry food, _accidentally_ pushed him down the stairs and locked him outside in the cold. They'd told him he was worth nothing, that he was a freak and ungrateful for believing they would take care of him until the blessed day of his eighteenth birthday, when _out_ he'd go.

"Not really…" Snape gripped the boy's arm, and Harry cowered.

"Do not lie to me," he hissed before letting go. "Try again." Harry suddenly had to blink back tears. This man, Professor Snape, seemed to… care. To want to know. Before he could help it, his head rolled over and landed on Snape's shoulder and his chest heaved with a quiet sob. Snape stiffened at the unanticipated action. At first, he wanted to shrug the child off him, and cuff him for his silliness. But something in the boy's demeanour told him that was the last thing he ought to do. It was obvious he'd been mistreated, and Severus silently cursed the headmaster for letting the whelp live with those wretched muggles.

"Potter…" The boy instantly sat up, swiped at his nose with his hand and blinked away a few tears.

"Sorry…" he said gruffly, for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last few minutes.

"Stand up," Snape ordered him as he rose himself.

"Why?"

"Just do as you're told." The still sniffling Harry Potter stood up, and Snape took his arm.

"What are you-" Before he could finish his sentence, he was sucked into that strange, tight tube of existence again, leaving the calm and pleasant muggle street behind.


	2. Hogwarts

When Harry could breathe normally again, he opened his eyes. He hadn't really noticed it, but as soon as they'd Apparated he'd pinched them tightly together.

Snape was still holding onto his arm, and it was a good job really. He felt incredibly wobbly, and was sure he'd topple over if the professor let him go.

They were standing in the middle of a warm living room. A fire was crackling in a fireplace surrounded by a small couch, an armchair, a wing backed chair and a coffee table. There were bookshelves lining the walls, along with a small collection of paintings. Further to the right was a small, round wooden table with four chairs around it, and behind them a door…. Harry suddenly stopped in his viewing of the room and spun his head back to face one of the paintings. It was of a woman, with long, raven hair and startlingly blue eyes. When he made eye contact, she blinked, gave a small smile and waved to him.

"What just happened?" he exclaimed.

"What, Potter?" Snape said, sounding quite tired.

"The… the painting. It moved!"

"As they do," Snape nodded, and finally let go of Harry's arm. The boy shook his head in amazement, and the Potions Master fought hard not to roll his eyes at the boy's reaction. "Now, sit down." Harry stared uncertainly at the sofa, wondering if he'd dare. "Go on, boy, don't just stand there gawking like an imbecile." Harry scrambled to it and was soon sitting perched on the very edge of the soft cushion. Snape moved around in the room, doing whatever it was he needed to do, and Harry used the freedom to look around a bit more. He noticed all the other paintings were moving too. One was of a small cottage between a few large, lush trees. The leaves were moving in a breeze, and birds would fly in and out of the picture. It was by far his favourite in the room, which was otherwise rather dark and a bit… gloomy? But Harry liked it. It felt homey, and very unlike the Dursley's house.

Just a moment later, Snape appeared in sight and took a seat in the armchair.

"Now," he started, crossing his arms, "In a moment, we will call on the Headmaster to assure him that you are safe."

"He knows me too?" Harry squeaked.

"The whole wizarding world knows you, Potter," Snape said, doing his best to sound somewhat calm and collected.

"Really?" he breathed. Snape sighed. It was obvious he'd have to tell the child about what had happened the night his parents had died. It was really a complete bother that no one had done it before. Snape wasn't sure he'd be able to relay the story in a fair way.

"Potter… Your parents did not die in a car crash. I am rather sure they very rarely even drove a car…"

"But my uncle-"

"You are to forget everything your relatives have told you," Snape interrupted. It was hard to believe what he was going to ask the Headmaster when they met… It was also difficult to believe he had already made his mind up. What are you doing to me, Lily?

"But-"

"No, Potter. That is all there is to it." He stared long at into those green eyes until the small boy nodded once. "Good. Now. Your mother… _and_ father," he forced himself to add, "were very nice and very brave people."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. And before, there was a… bad wizard around." He felt completely inadequate talking to this young child. The youngest students at Hogwarts were too young to fully comprehend what he was talking about, and this one was two years younger than _them_. He sighed fleetingly again. "Your parents fought him on several occasions." And how did you tell a child of eight years that his parents had been murdered anyway? Suddenly, he felt the urge to smirk. He'd leave that bit of information to the Headmaster. Yes, that was perfect. Checking his pocket watch he realised they did indeed have to leave to visit the old man.

"We will continue this in a moment. We must go and see the Headmaster now."

"Are we at Hogwarts?" the boy whispered, suddenly looking around him again.

"Yes, we are. Now come along." Severus rose and headed for the door, pleased to hear small feet quickly pad after him. He opened the door and stepped out into the chilly dungeon corridor, closing the door with a flick of his wand when the boy was outside.

"What was that?" Harry exclaimed.

"What was what?" Severus asked, still trying to be patient. They started walking up the corridor towards staircase.

"That stick!" the boy explained, almost running to keep up with the man's long strides.

"You mean my wand," Severus said, and not as a question.

"A wand?"

"Yes, Potter, a wand. The object with which we perform magic," he drawled, walking swiftly up the stairs, the rambunctious boy jogging along with him.

"Wicked," he whispered, slightly out of breath. Snape noticed this, and slowed down a bit, but still walking quickly. As they got into the brighter parts of the castle, Harry was once again mesmerised.

"This is amazing," he declared, starting to feel more comfortable with the stern professor. He was so much nicer than his relatives, and actually told him the truth about his parents. Which reminded him… "Hey, Snape?" The professor came to an abrupt halt, and Harry walked right past him before stopping and turning around. The man came up to him, towering over the small boy.

"Do _not_ talk to me like that," he said in a low, firm voice. Harry shrunk a few inches by the chastisement. "It's Professor Snape or sir to you, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered, feeling miserable. A curt nod was all he got in response as the professor started walking again, and Harry hurried to keep up. "Professor?" he tried again.

"Yes, Potter?"

"How did my parents die?" he asked in a small voice, curious but scared of the answer at the same time. The way the man had spoken about it made Harry think it couldn't have been a very pleasant event. Not that anyone dying was ever pleasant…

"I thought I told you we'd continue that discussion later," Snape answered. Harry turned very quiet then, and focused on the stone floor under his sneaker clad feet.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached a stone gargoyle, and stopped.

"I need to speak to the Headmaster," Snape said to the beast. Harry thought he'd gone mad: why was he speaking to a stone creature? But shockingly enough, the thing turned its head up towards Snape.

"Password?" it said in a gruff sort of voice. Snape hissed:

"Just let me in. You know who I am."

"I cannot let anyone in without the correct password," the gargoyle countered. Snape seemed to want to smash the thing (did wizards smash things with magic? Harry wondered), but instead he said:

"Oh for the love… Acid pops."

"Always so obliging, Snape," the beast grinned and jumped aside, revealing a doorway. Snape pulled Harry with him inside, and they stood in the staircase. It started rotating upwards, and Harry couldn't say a word. It was all simply stunning, and he decided he would not be surprised at anything else that happened. They arrived outside a wooden door, and Snape knocked twice. A soft voice asked them to enter, and Snape opened the door, pushing the boy in first.

"Ah, Severus." Harry had spotted the Headmaster the moment the door had opened. He was sitting behind a large desk, a pair of half moon spectacles perched on his crooked nose. Dressed in deep purple robes, his white beard and hair seemed to glow, and he gave Harry a warm smile as they made eye contact. "And Harry. How very nice to see you, my boy."

"Hello, sir," Harry said, shy all of a sudden. Snape rolled his eyes and ushered the boy forwards before finally pushing him down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, sitting down in the other one.

"You requested to see the boy, Headmaster," was the first thing Snape said as he looked at the elderly wizard.

"I did indeed," he nodded in agreement. "How are you, Harry?" Yet another person who knew his name and who he was. Harry was rather bewildered, but mustered up the courage to respond anyway.

"I'm well, thanks," he replied.

"I'm glad to hear it. A bit of accidental magic today, too, I understand," the Headmaster continued. Harry blushed, for some reason, and nodded. "Yes, yes. Would you like a biscuit?" Dumbledore held out a tin, full of sugary treats.

"Yes, please," Harry said eagerly, and carefully picked one up.

"Ginger newts," the Headmaster said. "My personal favourite. Minerva's too, I believe." Harry didn't know who Minerva was, but nodded just to be polite. "Well then. My name is Professor Dumbledore, Harry, and I'm the Headmaster of Hogwarts." Harry nodded again.

"Albus…" The man turned his kind eyes from Harry and rested them on Snape instead.

"Severus?"

"The boy has been under the impression that his parents were killed in a car accident," Severus said coolly, and Dumbledore's thin eyebrows rose an inch. "I believe it kindest if you were to enlighten him." The older man's eyes flashed briefly, but he smiled pleasantly.

"Yes, we should enlighten him," he agreed. Severus, having known Dumbledore for a long time, was sure he saw a gleam of uncertainty in the Headmasters' mirthful eyes. "Harry, how much did Professor Snape tell you?"

"About what, sir?" Harry asked with the same innocence of a young child.

"About your parents, and their death," he added gently.

"Oh… Not much. Only that they didn't die in a car crash. And that there was a dark wizard about at the time that they fought. But he said we'd continue talking about that later," he added, glancing at Snape for some sort of confirmation.

Harry seemed positively elated about the fact that his parents had been on the force against evil, and Severus was of the opinion that they ought to snuff this attitude to danger as soon as possible.

"I see… This wizard, Harry, is known-"

"Don't say his name," Snape interjected, but in vain.

"- as Lord Voldemort." Snape huffed ever so slightly. "He should know his name, Severus," Albus said calmly.

"Lord Voldemort?"

"_Don't_ say his name," Snape hissed in admonishment, making the child wince.

"Because of what he did," Dumbledore continued, "Most people prefer call him You-Know-Who, or He Who Must Not Be Named." He cast Snape a glance. "However, I have found that fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself, and therefore, I do encourage you to use his actual name."

"Did he kill my parents?" The question was followed by a profound silence, as neither of the adults knew how to answer this delicately. Harry hadn't even turned nine yet, and they didn't want to tell him bluntly that his parents had been murdered. To protect him.

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said softly. "But they did not die in vain. Your mother died to protect you. That scar you have…" Harry unconsciously touched his forehead, "is there because Lord Voldemort tried and failed to kill you." Harry stared, mouth hanging open, at the old man who was watching him serenely.

"Oh," was all he said, his green eyes very tender and downcast.

"I believe Mr Potter could do with some rest," Snape said determinedly. "And I would like a word with you, Headmaster. In private," he added when he noticed Harry was trying to protest.

"I think you might be right," Dumbledore smiled. "I'll call for Madame Pomfrey." He rose and walked over to the fireplace. With one hand, he threw in what Harry thought looked like greyish green sand, and the flames immediately turned a startling green. Without a moment's hesitation, he stuck his head into the hearth.

"No!" Harry exclaimed in surprise and horror.

"Do calm down, Mr Potter," Snape said in his usual silky voice. "The Headmaster is merely Floo-calling the Mediwitch." Harry gaped at him, but said no more. After a few moments, Dumbledore's head reappeared, and through the flames stepped a lady in curly, ashy hair, dressed in a grey dress with some sort of apron on top. Harry thought she looked kind, but maybe a bit hectic.

"Dear me, young Harry Potter, look at that. And so skinny, heavens, I have never seen a child look so miserable. Come along dear, we'll go get you washed up and fed."

"But-"

"No, no, come along now. I'm Madame Pomfrey, see, I work at the Infirmary. Jiffy up, lad, and follow me." Harry had no choice but to follow the witch out of the office, turning his head to give Snape one, last pleading look before the door swung closed behind him. Snape gave an exhausted sigh, finally feeling he could ease up as the boy was out of the room.

"Where did you find him?" Dumbledore asked instantly. When Severus had spotted the child he had immediately alerted the Headmaster, but had not told him _where_ he'd found him. He had been almost scared to send any message at all to the elderly wizard, even though he had used a Patronus, which would not be intercepted.

"It didn't take long," Severus admitted. "I checked at Godric's Hollow, where he was not, just as I suspected." The Headmaster gave him an indulgent smile, which irritated the Potions Master further. "I eventually found him outside Lily's childhood home," he said in a low voice, not needing to point out that the boy had been frighteningly close to his own old house at Spinner's End. It had been odd, walking down the street where he'd once hid behind some lilac bushes to get a glimpse of the pretty Lily Evans as she skipped off to the park with her horse-faced sister.

"I can't say I'm surprised," said Dumbledore, his brow slightly furrowed. "It is worrying, however," he continued, before Severus could speak up, "that the boy was actually able to leave the area in the way that he did." Snape raised a questioning eyebrow. "I have done my utmost to hinder him from straying too far from the home of the Dursley's. To keep him safe, of course," he added, as if there was any question as to why he had cast extra protections around the Boy-Who-Lived.

"What is to be done now?" Snape enquired, disregarding the Headmaster's explanation entirely.

"Why, the child must be returned home," Dumbledore said, as if this was the most logical solution in the world.

"Headmaster, if I may…" Severus paused, uncertain of how to phrase his concerns. "If Potter was able to travel as far as he did, maybe we should consider the fact that the Muggle area is not the safest place for him."

"Continue," the Headmaster said when Snape paused again.

"Also… The child gave me reason to believe he has been mistreated at his relatives'."

"Mistreated how?" Dumbledore's eyes had suddenly lost their usual gleam and were cold and serious. Of course he'd be concerned about his precious Potter. Snape almost felt like not answering, and let the man send the boy back. But the way Potter had looked at him, with those clear, green eyes, had sent a strange feeling through his body. He couldn't leave the child with those people, however irritating he might be.

"He would not tell me at the time," Snape admitted. "But when I asked him about it he hesitated before lying to me. I know a liar when I meet one," he added before Dumbledore could respond, and gave the man a long, grave look.

"I am aware. I cannot keep him here, though, Severus," he added, a grieved look painted across his old face. Snape knew for certain that Dumbledore would press for specifics on the boy's behaviour, but thankfully not now. The last thing Snape needed was a trip down sentimental avenue and listen to the Headmaster's rambling about 'poor Harry'.

"I do have a suggestion, Headmaster…" He paused for a moment, and Dumbledore said nothing, but watched the man with interest. "There is several of the staff who could look after him. Also, the boy will need tutoring. With the dangers he will face in his future, I think it quite suitable if I trained him in Defence." A thin, white eyebrow above Dumbledore's left eye rose slowly.

"You are telling me that you, willingly, would teach the child before he starts Hogwarts?" Severus squirmed. Actually, no, he did _not_ squirm. He moved in uncomfortable silence on his chair. Yes, that was more like it.

"All I am saying," he continued, raising his voice ever so slightly, "is that the child will, without a doubt, face a lot of unusual situations and he ought to be prepared. I have seen the works of the Dark Lord first hand," he said with a quiet voice, eyeing the Headmaster closely.

"I know you have," Dumbledore said softly. "And I do think it is an excellent idea." Now it was Snape's turn to raise an eyebrow. "However, I think he should be returned home."

"That is not a home," Snape interjected. "I have seen how the boy reacts when asked about the place, and I am certain that he is not being treated well there."

"Severus…"

"Be reasonable, Albus. It is obvious that the protection you have placed on the Dursley's didn't stop the boy from leaving the area when in distress. Who is to say it will not happen again?" Albus Dumbledore held the younger man's eyes for several minutes without speaking. Snape was adamant about not caving, and didn't look away or say anything at all under the man's heavy scrutiny.

"Very well. But I can only agree to this on one condition." Severus was rather surprised by how quickly the Headmaster had relented, but his condition set the man completely on edge.

"You want me to _what_?"

* * *

><p>"Swallow it all, there's a good boy." Harry was sitting on one of the beds in the Infirmary, obediently gulping down a nourishing potion that Madame Pomfrey had handed him. It tasted like porridge, but he thought he'd be polite and not point this out. "My, you're nothing but skin and bone. Well, I never…" She'd been saying similar things since they'd left Dumbledore's office, and Harry hadn't answered. She didn't seem to mind: it was obvious she was speaking more to herself than to Harry.<p>

"I'm fine," Harry said after having swallowed the entire potion. "Really…"

"Hush now, child, that's right." She was hurrying around the room, doing God knew what, and Harry was getting restless. He wanted to find Snape and ask him what was happening. After having come to Hogwarts, Harry really didn't want to go back to the Dursley's. An icy kind of fear mixed with panic set into his gut and he felt his hands get clammy.

"Madame Pomfrey…" He was sort of proud for remembering her name, and she looked up with a surprised expression on her face.

"Yes, dear?"

"Do I have to go back?" Since she was the only adult around, he figured it'd be best to ask her and not run away on his own, searching for answers.

"Now I can't possibly answer that, lad," she said briskly. But Harry thought he saw a flash of uncertainty in her face, and hoped dearly they wouldn't send him back. Oh, please, please… Just then, the door to the hospital wing was flung open and Snape strode in with long steps. His face looked stormy, and Harry crouched a bit at his stern gaze. The man's eyes finally landed on Harry, and he stopped dead. What did I do, was the first thing that flew through Harry's head when Snape looked at him like that.

"Well come on, Potter," he suddenly spat. "I don't have all day." Harry hastily scooted off the bed and landed with a small thud on the stone floor, hurrying after Snape, who'd turned with a flick of his robes and started to walk towards the door once again.

"Where are we going?" he peeped as he scampered after the clearly irate man.

"Home," he growled, and started down the stairs, a small, questioning boy trailing after him.

* * *

><p><strong>Hello again! A bit shorter, this. Sorry 'bout that. Just sort of want to get going.<strong>  
><strong>Lots of revising to do, but I can't help writing either, so I'll keep doing my best with updates. <strong>  
><strong>Thank you so much to all of you who have added 'Letting him go' to your favourites and story alerts! Means so much to me :))<strong>  
><strong>I hope you enjoyed it, and do review!<strong>

**Ivy **


	3. A first night

At the word 'home', Harry tensed up and slowed down a bit.

"Home?" he said quietly, not sure if he wanted to know what Snape would say to this, or how he would tell the man that he didn't want to go back to the Dursley's. But Snape didn't answer. He just kept a steady pace down the stairs, and Harry eventually understood they were going back to the lower floors where Snape obviously lived. He wondered what Snape taught at the strange school, and why he lived in the cellar.

"Snape?" Just like earlier, the man stopped suddenly, and spun around, a scowl on his face.

"What did I tell you about how to address me?" he hissed through thin lips. Harry flinched, and realised his mistake too late.

"I'm sorry, sir," he whispered. "I just wondered-"

"Save your questions," the man interrupted him and started walking again. "And keep up." Harry had no choice but to run after the Potions Master, and bite his tongue firmly to keep from asking a dozen other questions that kept popping up in his head. They kept walking, the only sound their footsteps slapping against the stone floor. Harry's feet were beginning to feel very sore; he'd been moving around all day, and together with the excitement he'd been feeling all day it was wearing him out. His eyes felt heavy as led, and he started dragging his legs a bit.

"Walk properly." Snape's admonishment snapped him right out of his dull state of mind, and the small boy shook his head a bit. They were finally arriving outside the Potions master's quarters, and as the door opened, Snape pushed Harry in first. For some reason, the small, crowded room felt almost like home to Harry, and he wanted nothing else than to just lie down on the small sofa, and maybe close his eyes for a bit…

"Move out of the way, child," Snape spat, and Harry hastily scrambled to obey. The door was slammed shut, and it left the room in an eerie sort of silence. Harry had his back turned to Professor Snape, and daren't turn back around, scared of what he might see. "Look at me." Of course, Harry knew it was only good manners to do so, but apparently he took too long. "Now, Potter," Snape growled. He turned around and looked up through his fringe at the dark, tall man. His eyes were ominous as always, and Harry found himself wondering if Snape was always displeased or if he just had that frown permanently placed on his face.

"Are you hungry?" The question took the boy completely by surprise, and his eyebrows shot up his forehead as he eyed the man before him. "Well don't just stand there gawking like an imbecile. Answer me!"

"No, sir. I mean yes. Yes sir."

"You are hungry?" He nodded vigorously. Snape snapped his fingers, and a small creature appeared with a muffled pop.

"What's that?" Harry exclaimed in astonishment, the elf staring up at him with big, round eyes.

"Just an elf, Potter, calm down," Snape said dismissively. "Would you please get some dinner for Mr Potter?" he then said, looking down at the elf.

"Yes, of course, Professor Snape. Blinky is doing anything for young Mr Potter." The house elf bowed numerous times, before Snape waved her off and she disappeared again.

"Sit down," Snape ordered, nodding to the small table and chairs. Not wanting to irritate the professor further, Harry quickly trotted over and sat down, his feet dangling quite far above the carpeted floor. He sat on his hands to ensure he didn't to anything stupid with them, and followed the professor with nervous eyes. Snape walked briskly around the room, lighting candles with his wand and making parchment and books on the coffee table clean themselves up. This simple act of household magic had Harry's mouth opening an inch, and he stared in wonder.

"Do close your mouth, Mr Potter, or you'll catch flies." Harry didn't think it wise to point out that they were inside, in a dark room, so there would hardly be any flies. He simply closed his mouth and kept looking. Just then, a large plate of different kinds of sandwiches appeared on the table before him, along with a bowl of fruit, a jug of some kind of juice Harry didn't recognise and a glass. "Eat, if you please," Snape said, and Harry was absolutely certain it wasn't a request. Not that he minded: at the sight of the delicious looking sandwiches, his stomach gave a triumphant growl. He carefully grabbed one and bit into it. The soft bread along with the ham and cheese tasted better than anything he had ever eaten.

"Eat some fruit as well," Snape ordered from the wing backed chair, where he was sitting with a book under his nose. The boy nodded, even though the professor couldn't see, and grabbed a pear. Pulling the glass closer, he lifted the heavy jug and carefully lifted it up to pour himself some to drink. Unfortunately, it was far too heavy for him, and when tilting it he lost his grip, and the juice came flooding out across half the table, over his sandwich and dripped down on his lap and onto the floor. His breath hitched as he stared at the mess he'd created. None of the sweet smelling liquid had come on the rest of the sandwiches, thankfully, but other than that it was _everywhere_. He heard a book closing, and slow, muffled footsteps approaching. Squeezing his eyes shut, he hunched in his chair.

"Potter, what is the meaning of this?" Snape's stern voice came from somewhere above him. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." Snape's tone left no room for arguments, and Harry carefully looked up at the man. His scowl was etched firmly in place as usual, and his arms were folded across his robe clad chest.

"I'm sorry…"

"Oh, I'm sure you are," the man drawled, and something in his voice told Harry he didn't quite believe him. "You should have asked for help. That jug is far too heavy for a small boy like you," he continued, still bearing down at Harry.

"Sorry," Harry said weakly again. Snape flicked out his wand, and in a wave the juice disappeared from the table and floor. Harry, though, was still drenched in the stuff.

"Finish your sandwich, and then you can have a bath," Snape decided, and walked back to his chair without another word. Hoping the professor wasn't angry with him, Harry ate the rest of his food, and as soon as he'd swallowed the last bite, Snape was by his side again. "Come along, boy," he said briskly, and started walking towards an archway Harry hadn't seen before. He quickly followed as the man walked through the arch and opened the second door on the right. Ushering Harry inside, he followed the boy into a rather large bathroom, with a comfortable looking bathtub at the far wall. By the sink lay a pair of small, clean pyjamas Snape had had the elf bring. The professor strode to the white tub and turned on the water. It immediately came rushing from the tap, making a loud and pleasant noise in the bathroom.

Still standing just inside the door, Harry bit his lip. He hadn't ever had a bath before. At the Dursley's, he'd had quick and cold showers whenever he could, but they hadn't thought he was worth wasting so much water on to let him bathe. With this in mind, he watched in uncomfortable silence as the professor adjusted the temperature and then turned the water off when it was deep enough. Turning around, the man spotted Harry still standing awkwardly a few feet away.

"Come on, Potter," he snapped. "Get undressed and in the water." Still, Harry did not move, and Snape looked (if possible) even more menacing. "Are you deaf, Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry mumbled.

"Then do as you're told."

"But, sir… I was just… I mean…" His embarrassment was rather obvious, and Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration and irritation.

"Don't be ridiculous, boy. I'm not leaving until I'm certain that you are in the bath and not playing around getting into all sorts of mischief. Come on." Feeling incredibly self conscious (Harry didn't even know this man!), Harry pulled his t-shirt over his head, and handed it with a trembling hand to the professor, who was holding out his hand. It took mere seconds for him to get all his other dirty clothes off and quickly get into the hot water. He hadn't noticed how dirty he was, and the water felt soft and nice on his slightly sunburned skin and sore muscles.

"Please do wash and not just dawdle, Potter," Snape drawled. "There is a towel on the bench there, and then put the pyjamas on." Harry had no time to say anything before Professor Snape turned with a flick of his robes and disappeared into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Harry sat quietly in the hot water, lying down and leaning his head on the cool edge. Everything was happening so quickly, his head had a difficult time keeping up. But the nice, hot water was lulling him into a sort of blurred state, and he closed his eyes for a bit. It felt so nice, and everything went pleasantly dark.

* * *

><p>After about twenty minutes, Severus got a bit uneasy. He hadn't wanted to sit and guard the boy, but as the son of James Potter, he was bound to be up to something completely wicked. Snorting in contempt, he put his book on the table and stood up. Before heading for the bathroom, he shrugged off his robe and hung it on the hook by the fireplace. When this was done, he proceeded into the narrow hallway, and opened the door to the bathroom, half expecting to find it splashed in water or destroyed in some other way. What he did not expect was what he saw before him: Harry Potter asleep in his bathtub, his little head lolled over to one side, his left cheek pressed hard into the porcelain. His face was flushed from the water and having been outside all day, and Severus was positively repulsed by the image.<p>

"Potter, wake up this instant," he said sternly. The boy just sighed through his half open mouth and moved his legs a bit. Growling menacingly, the professor brought out his wand and gave it a flick. The tap turned on and gushed out freezing cold water, and the Potter brat immediately woke up, shrieking in an impressively high note, and scrambling out of the water. "Oh good, you're up," Snape said sarcastically.

"That wasn't very nice," Harry frowned, completely forgetting his manners as he'd just been woken up.

"And you aren't very nice, either," Snape concluded. "You didn't even wash properly, did you?" Harry squirmed. "You were in her for over twenty minutes, Potter. Did I not tell you to get yourself cleaned up?"

"Yeah…"

"What's that?"

"Yes, sir. But it was warm, and I'm tired!" Snape shook his head a bit at the boy's antics.

"Mind your tone. You'll have to wash tomorrow then. Now, get those pyjamas on." Harry kept his frown on, but didn't talk back, his earlier fear of the professor returning together with his common sense. He pulled on the trousers, and then pulled the shirt over his head. As he followed Snape out of the bathroom, Harry asked:

"Sir, do I have to go home?" Snape stopped dead in his tracks, causing Harry to almost topple over as he avoided crashing into the man. It took a moment or so before the man replied, and his mysterious response was:

"Perhaps." He then kept walking, and opened the door closest to the living room. Inside was a small, homely bedroom. The walls were in the same dark stone as the rest of the castle, but had several paintings and tapestries to make them look pleasant. There was a bed with a thick duvet, a small wardrobe, a desk with a chair and a small armchair in a corner.

"Get in bed," Snape ordered without further ado.

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise. The bed looked absolutely wonderfully comfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to snuggle down between the covers, but he thought that maybe he had heard wrong. At the Dursley's he'd been made to sleep on a thin mattress under the stairs. Why was the professor being so nice?

"Do I look like I'm joking? Do as you're told, you horrendous boy," Snape snapped.

"But my Uncle-"

"Did I not tell you to forget what he's said?" Snape demanded sharply. "Hm?"

"Yes, sir…"

"Then do so, and get in bed. Do not make me ask you again." The tone of voice sounded ominous enough to get Harry moving, and he was soon lying in a soft and clean cocoon. "Now go to sleep. You know where the bathroom is, but I don't want you wandering anywhere else. Do you understand me?"

"Mhmm…"

"Potter!"

"Yes, sir," Harry sighed, his eyes drooping a bit and his breaths deepening. Snape snorted.

"Good night," he said firmly, striding out of the room but leaving the door open a crack. Reaching up with his left hand, he slid his glasses off his nose and placed them on the small bedside table.

Harry curled up tighter on his side, pulling his knees up towards his chest, heaving a deep breath as he closed his eyes completely. The events of the day caught up with him, and even though he would have wanted to stay awake and ponder everything that had happened, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep within seconds.

* * *

><p>Softness. When Harry woke the next morning, this is what was he first noticed. Rather than lying on a thin mattress with an old blanket draped over him, he was sprawled across the large bed with a thick duvet around him. At first, he couldn't really remember where he was. It was a disconcerting feeling, but not entirely unpleasant. At least he felt warm and well rested. Rubbing his eyes with both hands, he sat up in bed and fumbled for his glasses. As they were slipped over his nose and hooked behind his ears, the previous day came flooding back. He remembered Professor Snape, and magic, and Hogwarts, and his parents. He bit his lower lip a bit, and folded his legs underneath him. Now that he was fully awake and far too aware of everything for his liking, he wasn't sure what to do.<p>

As if he could see through walls, Snape walked through the door at this moment. Fully clothed, excluding his robes, he stood in the doorway, staring menacingly at the small boy. Harry hunched a bit, and did his usual staring-up-through-his-fringe-look.

"Good… morning," Snape greeted, and the words sounded like they felt uncomfortable on his tongue. Harry wasn't sure why, but he got the impression that Professor Snape didn't tell people "good morning" very often.

"'Mornin'," Harry mumbled in response. Snape frowned as usual, and gave a curt nod of his head.

"Get up, then," he ordered, and Harry scrambled to obey without a second thought. Once standing on the floor, he resumed staring at the professor. "Don't stand there gawking," Snape snapped. "Put on those clothes and then come out for breakfast." A swish with the robes and then he left the room. Harry glanced over at the armchair, over which a white shirt and a pair of grey trousers were hanging. The almost-nine-year-old shrugged a bit and walked over to the chair, sticking his arms through the sleeves of the shirt. Unlike any of his other clothes, it fit perfectly. He marvelled over the clean smell and gentle feeling on his skin as he buttoned it up. He fumbled a bit with the task: it wasn't very often that he had to button shirts, and it made it a bit difficult. Once he'd finished (leaving the top button open: he had to breathe, after all) he pulled on the trousers. These, too, fitted perfectly. After he'd put on a pair of socks and a pair of leather shoes (Harry was scared to touch them in case they got dirty), he headed for the door and nervously peeked outside. Down the hall he could see the living room, but the professor wasn't in sight. With careful steps, he left the room and walked through the corridor into the big room. He stopped dead in the middle, and bit his lip again. Without Snape there, he felt like an intruder, and didn't dare move. He barely dared to breathe.

"Managed to get dressed, I see." Harry turned so quickly he thought for a moment that he would topple over. Standing in the archway was Snape, of course, his arms crossed and his beloved scowl etched into place.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, going for the safest answer.

"Well, sit down," Snape said, nodding over to the table. Harry nodded in a kind of agreement, and trotted over to the table, sitting down on the same chair as the previous evening. To his surprise, Snape sat down opposite him, and as soon as his chair had been pushed close to the table, an array of food appeared on the table. There were eggs, bacon, sausages, kippers, toast, fruit, tea, juice and water. Harry watched eagerly as a plate was placed in front of him, along with a knife and fork, a glass and a napkin. Forgetting his manners, Harry reached for a piece of toast and his hand was immediately slapped away. Snatching it back and shaking off the sting, he stared at Snape.

"Don't be such a pig," Snape spat. "Napkin in your lap." Huffing under his breath, Harry unfolded the napkin and placed it over his legs, sitting on his hands not to grab for anything else. At the Dursley's, he'd had to wait until the others were done, and if he didn't eat quickly Aunt Petunia would take it away.

Snape did the same with his napkin, and then poured them both some tea. He continued and added milk, and some sugar to Harry's, before nodding.

"Go ahead," he said, almost sighing. Harry gave a wide smile, and grabbed toast, helped himself to some scrambled eggs and poured some juice into the glass. Feeling like he shouldn't be too rude, he turned to Snape and said:

"Can I start?" Snape snorted.

"_May_ you. And yes, you may." Grabbing his fork, he dug into the breakfast while Professor Snape drank his tea quietly. Harry ate as though he hadn't seen food in weeks, and then suddenly, he felt full. He still had half a piece of toast and an apple on his plate when he sighed and leaned back.

"That was lovely. Thank you," he added, remembering just in time. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Finish all of it, young man," he said, staring pointedly at Harry's plate. The boy grimaced involuntarily. Normally, he would have devoured every last bit, but after eating so much in one go, he felt almost sick just by looking at the food.

"But I'm full," he argued.

"You dished it out, so you'd better finish it." Harry huffed and squirmed. "Go on, Potter. You won't be leaving this table until you've eaten all of your food." Harry almost pouted, but checked himself in time. He was almost nine. He shouldn't pout. But he really couldn't eat another bite. Why did it matter anyway?

"Please," he said, his voice laced with a bit of a whine. "I really am full. Can't eat another bite."

"_Now_, Potter." Huffing again, Harry slowly took a bite of the toast. It didn't taste as nice anymore, but he forced himself to finish all of it, and then turned his eyes worriedly at the apple.

"Can I-"

"The apple too," Snape nodded. "You need some kind of fruit as well."

"I had juice…" Harry murmured, but bit into the apple anyway.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," he added a bit louder, and kept eating the apple. After a few agonising minutes he had finished the apple, and sighed heavily again.

"I'm glad you managed to do something properly," Snape said sarcastically.

"Am I interrupting?" Harry jumped about three feet into the air at the sound of Dumbledore's voice, but Snape didn't look at all bothered.

"Not at all, Headmaster," Snape drawled, facing the elderly wizard. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to know how young Harry was settling," Dumbledore said, giving Harry a twinkling smile.

"Perfectly all right, thank you," said Snape in a determined voice.

"I'm glad. Now, Severus, I do believe we need to exchange a few words. In private."

"Yes, of course, Headmaster." He turned to his charge, who looked rather displeased. "Potter, to your room."

"Why can't I be here?" Harry asked, not at all sure where this bravado was coming from.

"Because the Headmaster needs to speak to me in private. And I asked you to leave. Now, off you go."

"But come oooon…" he whinged. Fleetingly, he wondered why he dared act this way with this rather intimidating wizard. His relatives would have gone positively ballistic, but he'd never argued with them, or talked back. So why was he almost… comfortable about doing it to Professor Snape? As a matter of fact, the man looked quite angry by now.

"Mr Potter… Do not test me." Dumbledore was watching the scene with serene interest, not saying nor doing anything as he observed the battle of wills.

"But Snape…" This was the last drop. Snape walked around the table, clamped a hand down around Harry's neck and pulled him off the chair.

"Will you excuse us, Headmaster? I need to speak briefly to Mr Potter, here." As Dumbledore had no objections, Snape marched a suddenly downcast Harry Potter out of the room and into the boy's guestroom. Somehow, Harry thought, he wouldn't like the outcome of this.

* * *

><p><strong>So... Sorry it took a while. This chapter was killing me, not wanting to be written, and school... Is kicking my arse. Well, never mind. I hope you're still with me, and that the chapter was okay! Tell me if you find any misspellings and such. It happens the all of us, you know...? Please do review!<strong>

**Ivy**


	4. The Warlock's Hairy Heart

Harry bit his lip nervously as he was marched into "his" room, and the door shut menacingly behind the professor.

"What," Snape started, his voice darker and sterner than normally, "was the meaning of that?" Harry still had his back turned, and smashed his eyes shut. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," Snape snapped, and the chastised child had no option but to obey. Turning around, he glanced up at the irate man, who was glowering down at him. "Answer me, boy," Professor Snape thundered, and Harry winced slightly.

"I dunno…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't know," he said a bit louder, finding his voice in some godforsaken place deep down.

"You don't know?" Snape repeated, clearly very irritated with the whole situation. "Tell me, Mr Potter, has no one taught you how to behave towards your elders?"

"Yes…"

"Come again?"

"Yes, they have." Harry was finding it very difficult to speak properly, and wanted nothing more than to crawl up and hide under his bed. He couldn't do this, though, but was forced to stand completely still and wait apprehensively while Snape decided his fate.

"Then why," he continued, seemingly oblivious to Harry's racing heart, "were you so disrespectful just now?" Harry shrugged, certain he wouldn't be able to put together any kind of acceptable sentence. "A verbal answer, if you please," Snape growled, and Harry groaned inwardly.

"I don't know," he said again, even though he was absolutely sure that this answer would not be received well.

"Mr Potter, I don't know why you believe I will take your cheek, but if you think you can come barging into my quarters like this and behave like some insolent street urchin, then you are sorely mistaken." Harry didn't point out that he hadn't come barging in at all, but that Professor Snape had brought him there. Instead he just stood stock still, and stared at the hem of the professor's robe. "Do you have anything at all to say?" Harry's tongue felt about five times too big, and he couldn't say a word. He wanted to shrug, or shake his head, but he couldn't manage to do either. The complete lack of response did it for Professor Snape, and what happened next caused Harry to blush profusely.

When the child didn't answer or even look up, Snape firmly grabbed hold of the boy's arm, turned him to the side and swatted him once on his trouser clad seat. Harry gasped, but almost certainly from the surprise. It wasn't a very hard smack, and Severus thought he was being far too indulgent with the arrogant child.

"Now, I am going back to speak to Professor Dumbledore. I want you to stay in here, and not get into any mischief. I will be back and speak to you later. Understood?" Harry nodded vigorously, far too embarrassed to look the man in the eye. "Potter…"

"Yes, sir," he whispered, but was still proud he'd managed to make any form of verbal reply.

"Good." He let go of the boy's arm, turned around and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him. Once Harry was alone, he let out a small sniffle. It hadn't hurt, not much. But Snape had been so nice to him, and he'd been so silly and got himself a smack. The memory caused him to turn red again, and he sat down on his bed. The Dursleys had never really wanted to touch him, afraid his "freakiness" might be contagious. Of course, he'd got the occasional smack or cuff, but nothing really worth mentioning. Also, it was normally for the most trivial things, like not cutting the crass quickly enough because the lawn mower was too heavy, or spilling water on the porch when he was washing the car. This time, Snape had reprimanded him for being cheeky. He hadn't really thought he was being cheeky. At almost nine years old, he wasn't entirely sure what cheeky meant, but he had a vague idea.

Sighing to himself, he lay down, stretching his arms to either side of him as he stared into the ceiling. He knew the professors were talking about him, and he wanted so badly to go and listen, but he also knew he couldn't do that. Snape would know, for sure, and after what had just happened, Harry was hardly eager to get into the man's bad books again. After all, he wasn't even sure he was completely off the hook. Best not push his luck.

Huffing quietly, he rolled over on his side and waited for Snape to come and get him. _I wonder what they're talking about…_

* * *

><p>Snape shook his head as he exited the guestroom and made his way back to the living room. The Headmaster had by now made himself comfortable on the couch, and was smiling slightly.<p>

"You and Harry seem to be getting along nicely, even after such a short period of time," the Headmaster observed in a light and casual voice, which Severus thought completely unfitting considering the topic.

"That is what you would call 'getting along nicely'?" Snape replied in a crisp voice, raising an eyebrow as he sat down in his own wing backed chair, his hands loosely clasped in his lap.

"He is only eight, Severus," Dumbledore pointed out softly.

"He will be nine in but a number of weeks," Snape argued.

"It is the twenty-fifth of May, and his birthday is not until the end of July."

"Headmaster, what is the purpose of your visit?" Snape asked, disregarding Dumbledore's entirely off-topic statement.

"I merely wished to make certain our young guest is feeling all right and that he is being well taken care of," Dumbledore responded, his eyes flashing with the slightest warning in the direction of his Potions master.

"You yourself put him in my care. I promise you I will let nothing harm him," Snape said quickly. The words were sincere. He had no intentions of doing anything to harm the boy. Rather the opposite, but these thoughts were rarely even brought into light in his own mind, much less verbally delivered in front of the Headmaster.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore smiled. "And you are still sure you agree to our earlier deal?" Severus felt very much like saying no. He really didn't. But Dumbledore had, of course, managed to make him say yes, and there was no turning back. He knew the question was nothing but a formality, and that Dumbledore knew that he knew this.

"Yes, of course," he replied hoarsely.

"Well then. I will be off. I expect to see you both around the castle soon."

"I will not let him wander, Albus," Severus warned the elderly man.

"I never implied that you would." With a last twinkling smile, he departed and the door closed quietly behind him. Snape rubbed his left hand across his forehead in contemplation. It was still beyond him how on Earth he was going to manage this. It had been decided in quite the haste, but he knew what it entailed. He knew what would happen eventually. The question was: could he handle it?

* * *

><p>It hadn't been long since Snape had left, but Harry was <em>bored<em>. He was lying on his stomach on the bed, his head by the foot of the furniture. He was counting the bricks in the opposite wall, and had got to one hundred and fifty three. The cracks between the stones were beginning to blur, and he had to constantly push his glasses up his nose to stop them from falling onto the floor. What was taking so long? Snape had been there for several minutes; surely he wouldn't let Harry wait much longer! He continued counting, and just as he reached one hundred and eighty six, the door opened. In a haste, he sat up, and everything went black from the jerky movement. He swayed where he was sitting, and stuck his hands out into the air to balance.

"How very amusing," Snape observed coolly as he stood in the doorway, eyeing the child on the bed.

"I moved too quickly…" Harry mumbled.

"So I see." Harry shook his head, and when everything cleared, he turned to face the professor.

"What did he want?" Snape frowned (well, his frown deepened, rather).

"_He_ is Professor Dumbledore to you, young man. And what he wanted is none of your business. You were asked to leave the room for a reason."

"I wasn't exactly asked…" Harry muttered.

"No, you were told. Speaking of which, I want to discuss your atrocious earlier behaviour."

"What does atrocious mean?" Snape nearly rolled his eyes, but refrained from doing so, keeping up his stern demeanour.

"I have had just about enough of your constant chattering and cheekiness. I want it to stop." Harry squirmed under his firm gaze, not really knowing how to reply. Come to think of it, was he supposed to reply at all?

"Maybe your relatives didn't care much about what you did, but you can rest assured, Mr Potter, that I won't accept any disobedience or disrespect."

"They didn't!" Harry argued immediately. "I had to work all the time and they gave me horrible food and I hated it!" For a split second, Snape's eyes seemed to soften, but he checked himself hastily, and composed himself.

"I'm sure you quite disliked it and that they weren't nice to you. However, it seems to me as though they didn't mind your behaviour as much as they worried whether or not you got your chores done."

"It was more than just some chores…" Harry said in a low voice, surprising himself.

"You are changing the subject," Snape said calmly. "I'm not belittling your rather tragic childhood, but you cannot use it as an excuse for your poor behaviour." Harry hated how this man had valid and understandable arguments for all of his opinions, effectively making Harry feel young and inexperienced (which he was, but at eight, almost nine, he felt as though he had lived for ever).

"But you're being unfair," Harry whined.

"Stop your whinging this instant," Snape reprimanded. "It's only ten past ten, and I am in no mood to hear your complaints." Harry pouted, but remained quiet. "Now, come on." Snape turned around and, obviously expecting Harry to follow, the boy trotted after him, having to speed up to a jog to keep up with the professor's long strides.

"Where are we going?" he asked as they left the quarters and walked the same way as the previous evening: through the corridors, up the stairs…

"To the library," Snape answered curtly. Harry didn't mind, though. He hadn't expected an answer at all, as Snape seemed to be in a constantly sour mood.

"Why?" Instead of replying, Snape clamped a hand down around the boy's neck and kept up the speedy pace. Harry sighed silently, and said no more.

After heading through so many different corridors and hallways, Harry felt overwhelmed, and they arrived in the large room that was the library. The boy's mouth fell open. The place was huge, and every wall was covered with shelves of books (excepting the few that had windows in them). There were shelves lined up along narrow passages, they, too, covered in old, dusty volumes. Harry rather enjoyed reading. Whenever he could get his hands on a book at the Dursley's, he'd be lucky. It was an escape, and he could pretend he was somewhere else altogether, completely absorbed in the adventures of pirates, wizards and heroic children.

"Don't touch them," Snape said, having seen the way Harry was staring longingly at the shelves.

"Why not?" Harry asked with a frown, thinking it was very odd to have all these books and not let anyone touch them.

"Because I told you not to," Snape replied. "Come along." Huffing, Harry followed the professor once again. They stopped by a large round table in the far back of the room. There was a large fireplace in the wall, and Snape walked up to it, gesturing for Harry to stay back. The boy sat down carefully on one of the chairs around the table, and watched with curious eyes as the professor grabbed some powder from a dirty pot and chucked it into the flames. They instantly turned a startling green, and Snape stuck his head into the fire. Had Harry not seen this before, he was sure he'd run after the professor. His heart sped up a bit, but he didn't move. After Snape had said a few muffled words inside the fire, he retracted his head and stepped back. Not a moment later, a woman stepped through, and briskly brushed off her dress. At first, Harry thought it would be Madame Pomfrey again, coming to check up on him. But it turned out this lady was an entirely different one. She had the air of someone who thought they were very important. She wore black ornate robes and a pointed hat on her head, decorated with small, gleaming black feathers and stones.

"Well, Mr Potter," was the first thing she said, eyeing him up and down. "You certainly are a tiny fellow." Snape shook his head with clear disapproval.

"Is it all right if I leave him here for a while?" Snape asked, and Harry turned a pair of worried eyes on the tall professor.

"Very well," the woman nodded, seemingly a bit reluctant. "But he mustn't touch anything, or run around playing. I will give him a few books to keep him entertained."

"That would be very good, thank you. And I agree. He shouldn't be playing. I think it much more fitting that he sit quietly and read a book or two for a while." Harry quite disliked the way they were speaking of him, as though he wasn't there. Also, even if he did like reading, he didn't understand why he'd have to sit still for ages. It was much more fun playing. And maybe exploring the castle! It seemed to be absolutely enormous. He'd love to roam about the halls and look in all the rooms and-

"Mr Potter!" He snapped his head up and met the eyes of Professor Snape. "I have a few things I need to attend to. I cannot have you trailing after me all day, and so you will stay here, reading quietly. This is Madame Pince; she is the librarian here at Hogwarts. If you want any other books than the ones provided for you, you will ask. Understood?" Harry nodded thrice. "A verbal answer, if you please."

"Yes, sir, I understand," Harry sighed. "But why can't I come?"

"Because you are a petulant child that will make everything take five times longer," Snape replied casually. "Now, behave." And with that, he stalked away from the boy and the straight backed librarian. Harry, feeling uneasy, turned towards the strict librarian. She looked a bit bird-like, with that thin, hooked nose and those sunken, pale cheeks.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped. "What kind of books do you want?" Harry had no idea, really.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. She made an irritated noise through her pointy nose, and rushed off. He wasn't sure what to do, but just sat on the chair. The woman seemed scary and like she didn't want him there at all. He wished Snape would understand this. Then, maybe, he would've let Harry come with him. It was obvious he wasn't truly wanted in the library, and he would much rather follow Snape when he worked than sit locked up in this stuffy room with books. His first impression of the place quickly diminished, and he was left with an odd sort of resentment towards the room.

Just about then, the librarian returned and dumped three books on the table in front of him.

"There you are. I will just around the corner." She pointed in the direction she meant. "Don't wander off. If you want anything, just come ask me." Without waiting for an answer, she turned her back on the perplexed child and stalked off to wherever it was she was going. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, Harry grabbed the closest book and pulled it up to him. On the cover was a picture of what he thought was a dragon. The title read: _Conquering the Evil That Is Prejudice_. It was written by someone named Newt Scamander, and a quick look at the first few pages told Harry it was about how dragons were misunderstood and that no one should judge them. He wasn't really in the mood for reading anything like that, and so he put the tome aside. The next one was a lot thinner and lighter, and seemed a lot more promising. It had drawings on the cover, of some symbol, a wand, a few skulls, a tree… Harry looked away from the images to read the title: _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. He thought it sounded like a strange title for a book, but liked the sound of it and thus opened it. He then realised it was a collection of fairytales, and suddenly, the title seemed fitting enough. _That Bard person must've written them_, he thought. Looking through the index, he decided on reading the story entitled _The Warlock's Hairy Heart_, merely because of the amusing name.

_There was once a handsome, rich and talented young warlock, who observed that his friends grew foolish when they fell in love, gambolling and preening, losing their appetites and their dignity. The young warlock resolved never to fall prey to such weakness, and employed Dark Arts to ensure his immunity…_

Though the story contained a fair few words he did not understand, and almost frightened him at times, he read at an impressive speed, drinking it all in. To think that magical children were told these stories! At the end, he shook his head. It seemed silly to him that the warlock would not want to fall in love. He may only be eight, almost nine, years old, but he was sure he'd fall in love at some point! The thought of such a topic brought to mind his parents. He didn't know much about them, almost nothing at all in fact, but he was absolutely certain that they had been very much in love. Of course, the story had a most tragic and disturbing ending, what with the man cutting out his recently replaced heart and dying with the woman he had fallen in love with, but still. Harry found the tale interesting and enchanting as well as scary and awful. Encouraged by the success of this tale, he started to read the next one: _Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump_. He was soon deep into the fictive world, noticing nothing around him.

* * *

><p>When Snape had left the child in the library, he let out a sigh of relief. The boy wasn't being a nuisance on purpose, he knew this, but he was sill a tiring one to have around. And to think, he wouldn't escape now… Shaking his head, he made his way towards the Headmaster's office. He felt he needed to speak to the man, and was also sure that Albus would have a thing or two to say to him.<p>

Muttering the password through gritted teeth, the gargoyle grinned and leapt aside. Taking the rotating stairs two at a time, he was outside the door in no time at all. Before he even had the chance to knock, it opened itself, slowly, to reveal the elderly Headmaster sitting behind his desk, his nose almost touching the parchment he was reading.

"I was wondering when you would turn up here," he observed, not looking up.

"I'm sure you were," Snape muttered, closing the door personally before walking up and sitting in one of the chairs in front of the large desk. Dumbledore finished reading whatever it was, and looked up with a small, serene smile, just like the one he almost always had pasted on his face.

"What did you do with young Harry, may I ask?" Dumbledore enquired.

"I left him with Madame Pince in the library. He _should_ be reading," he added, emphasis on _should_, as he wanted to make it known to the Headmaster that he did not, really, expect the child to obey.

"Ah, yes, the comfort of a good book. A very good choice of occupation, I believe," Dumbledore said with a small nod.

"Headmaster-"

"Severus, allow me to speak," Dumbledore interrupted, holding up a hand to silence the younger wizard. "I trust you have not yet spoken to Harry about… future arrangements?" _What a delicate way of putting things_, Snape thought icily.

"No, I have not," he replied honestly.

"Ah, I thought so," Dumbledore nodded. "It was quite evident in the boy when I saw him this morning. Though I must say, he seems very comfortable with you."

"Perhaps a bit too comfortable for his own good," Snape said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, well, children do adapt quite quickly," Dumbledore responded breezily. "Now then. I have just now received papers from the Ministry."

"Papers?"

"Yes, for temporary guardianship."

"Temporary? I was under the impression that you wanted-" Again, Severus was cut off by the Headmaster:

"Let's see how it works first," he said in a haste. "Until his ninth birthday, we will do like this. After that, we shall see what happens." Was there, then, maybe, some hope of his getting out of this?

"But I trust your intentions are still to make me go through with this?"

"You did agree," Dumbledore pointed out softly.

"I didn't have much choice," Snape replied sharply.

"But you still agreed," Dumbledore argued in his very own placid way. "I really do believe it to be best for Harry," he continued. "He needs someone who will be able to support him and bring him up properly regardless of his fame and his previous home."

"And you honestly believe that I am best suited for this task?" Severus asked, even though he had asked this several times the previous evening.

"I do," Dumbledore nodded. "I know that, despite your firm and cold exterior, you do care for the child and that he will be safe in your hands."

"I will not mollycoddle him, Albus," Severus warned.

"If I thought you would, I would not have left him in your care. He needs guidance, Severus, and someone to stand behind him."

"I will _not_ be standing behind him in all his mischief," Snape stated resolutely.

"Severus, please," Dumbledore said reproachfully. The younger of the two sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"You have to understand that is turning my life upside down, Headmaster," he said after a moment.

"Of course I understand this. But the entire staff of Hogwarts is here to help you, and I am sure that there are several other people who would be more than willing to help. The Weasleys, for example…"

"No," Snape said hotly. "No, if he is going to live with me, he will not be sent to them, getting all sorts of ideas into his head."

"I would have thought it'd be good for him, meeting some other wizarding children. Children that wouldn't judge him or look up to him because of his fame." Severus snorted. Having said this, Dumbledore handed the official papers over to Severus, who read them in silence.

"And all I do is sign?" Dumbledore nodded.

"We need the Dursleys signatures, too, but I will fix that. Best not take Harry back there."

"Yes, best not…"

"Well, I believe you have other things to do than sit here with me," Dumbledore said brightly. "Go get dear Harry. Show him around the castle. Oh, and tell him about what will happen."

"I have to tell him?" Snape asked in clear annoyance.

"I believe that would be best, yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "Good day, Severus."

* * *

><p><strong>There we are, chapter four complete!<strong>  
><strong>This was quite a lot easier to write, even though I did have to change most of it from the original idea of the chapter in itself... But it turned out all right, and it contains what I wanted it to contain.<strong>  
><strong>Please tell me what you think!<strong>

**Ivy **


	5. Disobedient wandering

Two hours later, Harry had read every single story in Tales of Beedle the Bard. He closed the book with a pensive look upon his young face. The stories had been fantastic, but he sort of sensed they had some other meaning. They were obviously children's stories, but some elements of them confused him… He shook his head and put the book down on the table; suddenly realising he must have been sitting there for a while. His back was hurting from sitting for so long, and he stretched his arms out to his sides to get his body back to speed. _Where is Snape?_ he wondered, looking around as if expecting to find him lurking behind a bookshelf.

Harry stood up and winced at the pain shooting through his body. He must've been sitting still for ages. Ignoring the sensation, he frowned as he wondered what to do now. He didn't at all fancy reading anything else: he'd been reading plenty, and surely it must be enough! Remembering that Madame Pince would be around the corner, he grimaced. Of course, he should go and ask her for something to do. But on the other hand, she'd either tell him to read another book or stop bothering her. Harry was sure she didn't much like him, which he thought to be completely unfair, considering she didn't even know him. Biting his lower lip, he looked in the direction where the librarian had disappeared earlier. What should he do…? Or rather, what _would_ he do? He was well aware of what he _should_ do. But… She seemed like such a vile woman! Completely awful.

Sighing, he made his decision. With quiet, small footsteps on the floor, he padded over to where the witch had said she'd be. He hated being sensible, but Snape's reprimand earlier made him unwilling to do something stupid. He felt embarrassed by the memory, and quickly pushed it out of his mind.

Rounding a corner, he spotted a desk ahead of him. It was covered in various books and pieces of parchment, but he noted they were all in some kind of order. Thinking of how Madame Pince had acted, Harry wasn't surprised. There was only one problem: The woman herself was nowhere to be seen. He frowned a tad, and stopped dead in his tracks. Now what should he do? Hadn't she said she would be sitting here? Surely she wouldn't have just left Harry in a completely foreign room without telling him! Harry thought it to be exceedingly strange, and he felt a bit annoyed by the whole situation. Despite his not wanting to irate the Potions Master by disobeying in any way, he dropped all rationality. If she wasn't there, they could hardly blame him for not staying put.

His previous idea about exploring the castle came back and brightened up his mood. It seemed like an excellent thing to do. There must, naturally, be hundreds of places he could discover within the castle. He could hardly contain himself with anticipation at all the things he might find, and so he whipped around and half ran back to where he'd come from. Walking straight past the large round table, he continued through the library until he reached the large doors leading out into the corridor. Hesitating nervously for one moment, he left one hand hovering over the handle. He knew he wasn't supposed to. But Snape would most likely not be back for ages. And if Madame Pince hadn't checked on him so far, he was sure she wouldn't in the near future. Besides, the school was obviously huge. It wasn't very likely that he would run into either of them. And also, he was small. He could easily hide should he spot them somewhere.

Making up his mind, he pushed open the door and stepped out into the hallway.

* * *

><p>Snape was in his personal lab, working intently on a rather complicated potion. It needed to brew for exactly four hours before being stirred anti-clockwise thirteen times. He was watching his pocket watch carefully. Forty more seconds…<p>

It was vital that the stirring began at the precise moment of the fourth hour's end, or the whole concoction could be ruined. These kinds of potions he rarely had the time to make during the school year, as there would always be some interruption. So, in the summer, he made sure he had a large supply of all the kinds.

The fact that he would now have an addition even during the breaks was a bit nerve-racking, in more than one way. Of course, he'd have a lot more authority over this particular miscreant, which made him feel just a tad safer. If the Potter boy was to become his… ward, he would have to learn a thing or two.

Snape snorted, and started stirring as the clock ticked the last second of the four hours. Yes, it was wonderful being alone, able to work in complete silence. He stirred thirteen times, then stopped, added a phial of dried spider eggs before checking the time. Eight minutes of brewing before the next step. With the watch still tightly in his hand, he sat down on the stool by his work bench and rubbed his eyes. Everything really was rather messed up. He sighed. Just then, a small roll of parchment appeared before him. Frowning, he unrolled it and quickly read through the contents. Grinding his teeth in anger, he threw an annoyed glance at the brew. With a flick of his wand, the fire under it died out and the potion was ruined. He then proceeded at quite a speed out of the lab and towards the corridor.

* * *

><p>His eyes full of wonder, Harry walked slowly through the corridor, watching in amazement as the people in the portraits waved and smiled at him.<p>

"Look who it is," one old man said pompously. "Little Harry Potter. A bit early for you to be here, is it not?" Harry blushed, and nodded before walking on. For such a small boy, all aspects of the castle were positively overwhelming. Everywhere he looked there was some interesting detail, and his head felt completely crammed with new information. He also felt a tad nervous, yet excited about the fact that he was disobeying the rules. Well, maybe not the rules. But Professor Snape had told him to sit and read. Which was not at all what he was doing. In all fairness, though, he had a lot of reading, and he could hardly expect Harry to sit still all day, could he? Especially not when he was in the most amazing place ever.

While he was walking, Harry wondered what the place looked like from the outside. They'd Apparated straight into Snape's quarters, so all he'd seen was the inside. It was all stone walls and floors, and it seemed to be pretty big. Enormous, more like. He couldn't at all fathom what the exterior might look like, and his curiosity once again got the best of him. He decided to go and look for a way out, so that he'd be able to look at the building. Of course, this would prove to be rather challenging. He'd been walking for a while, aimlessly, and would never find his way back to the library. Also, he had no idea on what floor he was. Considering the large amount of staircases he'd seen, he guessed the house had several storeys. So if he wanted to get outside, he'd need to get to ground level. Determined to find a window, he kept walking along the corridor.

It didn't take long before he spotted a row of them along a hallway, and he hurried over. He looked out over hills and a dark forest. The landscape was breathtaking, but he didn't have eyes for it. He was rather high up. Maybe, say, five flours? Yes, that seemed right. Encouraged by this success, he ran along, trying to find staircases that would lead him to lower floors. Continuing at quite a speed, he didn't even notice the portraits and such around him. He simply kept going, choosing his way at random, hoping he would eventually get to wherever it was he was going.

Feeling exceedingly pleased with himself, he spotted a flight of stairs leading down. Not being able to stop himself, he giggled slightly and bounded down the stairs. He wondered fleetingly why there was no one about, but then realised this was a school, and it was summer. The students must all have gone home.

Content with this, he kept going, and it didn't take long until he found several more staircases, all leading further down. After he'd descended three, the look of the hallways changed. The corridors were suddenly wider and had higher ceiling. Walking more slowly, he frowned. What was… Those doors like very large, he thought as he spotted two enormous, heavy wooden doors. _Maybe_… Walking up to them, he tried opening one. Unfortunately, it was locked. And in any case, it would have been far too heavy for such a little boy to be able to open them. Disgruntled, he backed up a few steps and stared menacingly up at them. _Let me OUT!_ His mental demand seemed almost to reverberate off the walls, and miraculously, the left door clicked and opened a crack. Gasping in astonishment, he was frozen in place for a moment. What had just happened? Had… Had the door opened for him? Harry could find no other explanation, and seeing as he now knew magic was real, it didn't seem too strange. Very pleased indeed, Harry slid through the crack and wandered out into the mild midday.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape could be a rather intimidating man. More than once when he was billowing through the hallways of Hogwarts, students had scurried out of the way, not wanting to irate the always dour man. At the moment, he was anything but pleased. He might even stretch to saying he was seriously displeased. And this was never a good sign.<p>

With brisk and quick strides, he headed up the stairs from the dungeons and made his way toward the library. The place where his ward _should_ be sitting quietly with his nose in a book. However, as Madame Pince had informed him, he was doing anything but. Making haste, he was soon at the desired room, and opened the doors with a flick of his wand. He immediately spotted the librarian, who for once in her life looked something other than miserable: she looked worried. At least she has some kind of conscious, Snape thought ironically as he made his way to stand in front of her.

"Well?" he demanded firmly, staring at Irma.

"This is an outrage!" she said haughtily. "I was gone for two minutes, fetching a new bottle of ink, and when I came back he was gone!" She seemed almost upset, but Snape had other things to worry about.

"Didn't you lock the doors or anything?"

"I can't just lock the doors," she replied matter-of-factly. If there are emergencies, the doors need to be easy to open." Snape forced the urge to roll his eyes, and disregarded her explanation.

"When did you notice this?"

"About ten minutes before I sent you the scroll," she admitted. "To begin with, I searched the library and all the nooks and crannies around here. I am positive he has left the room." Snape ground his teeth together. It wouldn't take too long to find the child, but it was a useless waste of time, and he had effectively ruined his potion. Oh, when I get hold of him… He shook his head, and made a quick decision.

"I shall go and speak to the Headmaster. He will have the most… efficient ways of locating the boy, I am certain." The librarian nodded in agreement and he left the room as hastily as he had arrived.

* * *

><p>As soon as Harry had got down the stairs, he turned around and his mouth fell open. He'd figured the school would be big, but… The castle that was standing before him was so high; he almost fell over as he bent back to try and see the top. He couldn't really see a lot of it from where he was standing, but he felt a completely new kind of awe towards the place. <em>I can't wait until I'm a student here,<em> he thought, certain that studying magic wouldn't be at all like the dreary maths and English classes he'd had in school.

Realising he'd been staring blankly at a stone wall for a while; he shrugged off the dreamy feeling and started walking across the grass, around the castle. The building was so big, it was sure to have a lot of gardens and stuff around it, Harry reasoned, and he would love to see if a magical castle and its surroundings would be different toward what a Muggle place might be like.

Once he rounded the corner, large lawns spread out ahead of him, and in the distance, a large, dark and gloomy forest stretched along the edge. Near the trees was a small hut with what looked like flowerbeds around it. _I wonder who lives there, _he wondered. Deciding he would find out, he strolled contently along the slightly damp grass towards the small house.

Halfway across the massive hill of grass, he could feel someone looking at him. It was an eerie kind of sensation, feeling someone's eyes boring into your neck. It became even more frightening when Harry realised who it would most likely be. This was the point when he realised he should have stayed in the library. Surely Snape would have let him go outside later if he'd just been good. Of course, now, he didn't want to turn around, scared of he might see. He slowed down considerably, but kept walking, his small hands clenched into tight fists as he waited for the professor to call his name. After twenty metres or so, he became a bit suspicious. Gathering up all his courage, he whipped around, expecting to see Professor Snape looming over him. To his surprise, there was no one in sight. He looked around him in befuddlement, trying hard to see if there was anyone nearby. But there wasn't, and he began to feel uneasy. Maybe he should just go back inside. Turning away from the small house, all his previous curiosity vanished; he began his trek back towards the front doors. He couldn't help but imagine those eyes were still watching him. In all honesty, he hadn't actually seen anyone staring at him, but the feeling had been so profound, he was sure it had to be real. He'd felt the same way sometimes in the playground in school, and caught people staring at him in disgust. It was all Dudley's doing, of course, but he now had a way of knowing when he was being watched.

Arriving at the doors, he noticed they were shut once again. Frowning, he supposed he could try the same thing again. Thinking hard, wishing them to open, he stared intently. The doors didn't move. Huffing in indignation, he tried again. Still nothing. Growing irritated, he stamped his foot and glared menacingly at the wall. Miraculously, they both swung open. However, Harry's joy was short lived. Standing in the doorway, was Professor Severus Snape.

* * *

><p>"Severus, my boy." Snape didn't reply, but simple strode into the Headmaster's officer and closed the door smartly behind him.<p>

"That child," he began with annoyance, "is more trouble than he is worth."

"I presume you are referring to Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. Snape began pacing in front of the Headmaster's desk, his hands on his back and his head bowed.

"He has some nerve," Snape went on.

"What is it now then?" The younger of the two stopped long enough to cast Dumbledore a sharp look before he continued his pacing.

"He is not in the library, where I left him for a bit of peace and quiet."

"Really? Well, a young boy would find it rather tedious to read for too long-"

"I don't care how he found it," Snape interrupted. "He is now gone, and I don't know where to." Dumbledore didn't look at all worried, which unnerved Severus slightly. "What?"

"I've found," the Headmaster began, standing up, "that the best place to start looking, is right before your eyes." He walked over to the window and peered out. In the distance, he could see a small fellow in raven hair strolling across the grass. Snape came up behind him and stared over his shoulder.

"Why the little…"

"I suggest you go and get him," Dumbledore said, resuming his seat.

"I most certainly will," he growled and started for the door. Just as he was about to open the door, Dumbledore said:

"Oh, and Severus?" The Potions Master turned, leaving his hand on the door handle. "Don't be too hard on him." Albus smiled serenely, and Snape nodded curtly before leaving the room.

* * *

><p>Becoming very apprehensive, Harry stared at the professor's shoes.<p>

"Well," the man started, his voice low. "Took a little stroll, did we?"

"I'm sorry," harry began in a haste. "I'd been reading for ages and I was bored and the librarian lady wasn't there so I thought I would just take a walk in the castle and then-"

"Enough," Snape interrupted him firmly. "I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses." Then, to Harry's mortification, the professor stepped forward and pinched the boy's ear between his fingers before matching him into the castle and towards the stairs. Harry, having never been treated like this before, whimpered a bit.

"That huuuurts," he whinged, tilting his head to try and relieve some of the strain on the ear. Snape didn't pay him any mind, but simply strode along the corridors and then down the stairs. Harry bit his lip, dreading their arrival at Snape's quarters. Once again, he felt very little and was genuinely scared of what the professor might do to him. He didn't think he would actually hurt him, Harry, but keeping in mind his earlier reprimand…

Stopping outside Snape's quarters, the man opened the door swiftly, and pushed the boy in first, letting go of his ear. Immediately Harry's hand trailed up to his head, carefully rubbing at the throbbing ear. Turning around, he couldn't help but send Snape a seething glare. Not saying anything, Snape, with surprising speed and accuracy, reached around and smacked the boy smartly on his behind. Harry let out a yelp in protest, feeling exceedingly sorry for himself.

"Wipe that look off your face right now," Snape said sternly. "You deserve a lot more than what you're about to get, sneaking off like that. I thought I told you I would accept no disobedience, did I not?" Harry nodded mutely, trying to ignore his throbbing ear and slightly stinging backside.

"I was bored," Harry complained despite himself.

"That is no excuse, young man, and you know it," Snape chided. "This will never happen again. Understood?" Harry nodded vigorously. "I thought so. Now, go stand in that corner for fifteen minutes. Give me some peace."

"What?" Harry demanded, looking up at the man in disbelief. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"You heard me. Off you go." Turning the boy around and shoving him in the direction of said corner, Snape watched the boy trudge solemnly over there, placing his nose in the corner.

"This is so unfair," Harry muttered in a low voice.

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Very well. Be quiet now." Harry stood quietly, scowling at the two walls meeting. The horrid thing about standing in a corner is that you can't see anything else. The walls efficiently cut off the view in every way. The only way he'd be able to see anything would be if he turned around, and he was sure Snape wouldn't be too pleased about that. He didn't really know what he was supposed to be doing. To him, it seemed like a complete waste of time. Snape could let him have some lunch, or maybe let him explore the castle some more. After all, he hadn't gone that far away, and had come back inside of his own accord. This brought back to mind the strange feeling of being watched. He wondered who it might have been. At this point, he was sure he hadn't imagined it. Maybe it had been Professor Snape after all, looking at him from inside the school. This was rather likely, actually, but completely ruined the excitement of it all. Harry quickly pushed the thought away, and decided it would have been someone a lot more interesting. And a lot less scary. Really, what was with all his black robes and lanky hair? Harry snorted a bit with suppressed laughter.

"Shush," Snape said immediately from his chair, where he was sitting with a book. Harry huffed and squirmed.

"Can I come out soon?" he asked, feeling rather reckless.

"I told you to be quiet," Snape said ominously. "You had better heed me." Resisting the urge to huff again, Harry bit his lip and stared resolutely into the corner. It was mind-numbing. After what felt like an eternity, the Professor told him to turn around, and Harry did so happily, feeling as though he hadn't seen the room for absolutely ages. Snape eyed him for a while, and eventually shook his head.

"Mr Potter, we need to have a little talk." Harry frowned.

"What about?" Snape looked at him pensively for a bit longer, and ran a hand down his face.

"Sit down," he eventually said, contemplating how on Earth he was supposed to go about this.

* * *

><p><strong>There.<strong>  
><strong>Sorry for the... excessive POV-changing, or whatever. This chapter was a tad tricky, I'll confess. And it's a bit short, for which I apologise as well. I just wanted to get it up here, really. I'm so anxious to see what you all think of it. You've been so nice and supportive so far. Your reviews are positively intoxicating :')<strong>  
><strong>Only three more weeks of school now, and then holiday! Hopefully, I can update a bit more regularly during the summer.<strong>  
><strong>Please review, and I hope you enjoyed it!<strong>

**Ivy **


	6. Words that begin with dis

**Hellooooo?**  
><strong>You still alive out there? I am sorry this took a while, but as I said, I've been on holiday. Had a marvellous time, and decided that tonight I would finish this chapter, no matter how long it would take. So I've been sitting writing for pretty much three hours straight. I might fall asleep any minute...<strong>

**Anyway. It feels good to have got this chapter up here now, and I hope you all like it. If you spot any spelling mistakes or other faults, please tell me and I will correct them. I've been up since seven, so I'm a bit mental at the moment. **

**In some ways this chapter was kicking my arse. Not sure if I like Snape here, but I will wait and see what you think. What do you think of Harry's insistent wandering? ;) He's curious, what can I say.**

**Enjoy!**

**Ivy **

* * *

><p>Harry gave the professor a suspicious look but did as he was told and sat down on the couch. Snape seemed to be struggling with how to begin, and Harry itched to ask him what this was all about. He didn't, however, as he didn't like the mood Snape seemed to be in and he wasn't sure if he was off the hook for earlier yet. He sat on his hands and banged his heels noiselessly on the legs of the piece of furniture while he waited apprehensively for the Professor to start speaking.<p>

"We need to get a few things… sorted out," professor Snape eventually said, looking at the boy with a slightly furrowed brow.

"Okay," Harry said timidly, not actually sure he should have answered at all.

"Do you remember that I told you before to forget everything your relatives had said to you?" Snape asked. Harry did remember, but didn't quite see the logic. If he went back, he'd have to hear it all over again, so what was the point, really?

"Yes," he nodded anyway, feeling more and more curious by the second. Snape cleared his throat quietly, and didn't look the same as he used to. His face was softer, almost. Well, that was the only way Harry could think of describing it.

"I meant that."

"Okay..." Harry already knew this. Snape didn't seem like a man who said things he didn't mean.

"Professor Dumbledore… And several other people," he added, including himself silently, "Believe that you need to be moved." _Why am I speaking of the child like he's an object?_ Snape asked himself.

"Moved?" Harry asked with confusion in his young voice.

"It is obvious you are not… living comfortably with your relatives, and it was never the intention of the Headmaster to have you staying with people who didn't want you." The forehead of the small boy creased. "Of course, if you want to stay with your aunt, no one can-"

"No!" Harry interrupted, disregarding all manners. "No, I won't go back, I won't!" In his exasperation he stood up, his glasses ending up askew on his nose.

"You don't have to," Snape replied. "Now sit down." The order was firm, and Harry immediately dropped back onto the couch, completely deflated.

"I don't?" He said weakly.

"No," Snape said, shaking his head ever so slightly. "It is quite clear you were not being taken care of properly, and something will be done about it." Harry thought for a moment.

"But I haven't a family," he pointed out. "I have nowhere to go." Now he got scared. So he was allowed to leave the Dursley's. But Snape obviously didn't know he didn't have any other family. He had nowhere to live, nowhere at all!

"We are aware of this, Mr Potter," Snape said curtly. "But other arrangements have been made. We will take your opinion into account, of course, but it is for the… best." Snape had trouble convincing the boy of this, as he was yet to be completely convinced himself.

"Oh…" Harry didn't fully understand, but was so glad he wouldn't have to go back to the Dursley's he broke into a small smile. Snape frowned.

"What are you smirking about?" he asked sharply.

"Nothing… Sir," he added at Snape's glare. The dour professor didn't seem entirely convinced but apparently didn't think it was worth dwelling upon.

"Conniving lies may have worked with your Uncle, young man, but do not insult me by trying to do the same to me." Harry turned a light pink and didn't answer. "You should know that it is the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, that has decided what should be done in this situation." Harry fidgeted in his seat and frowned a bit, scrunching up his pale forehead. Snape's way of speaking was strange. He seemed often to go on for a while, and then in the end not actually having said what he wanted. To make sure Snape knew he _was_ actually listening, Harry gave a small nod.

"As you are only eight years old, it-"

"Almost nine," Harry couldn't help but put in.

"I beg your pardon?" The boy flushed.

"I'm almost nine," he repeated, in an even lower voice.

"I am perfectly aware of your age, boy," Snape hissed. "Now stop your insolent interruptions and let me speak." Harry sat silently, staring down at his tightly clasped hands. _Stop it_, he whined at himself. _You dealt with the Dursleys, and Snape isn't _that_ bad_. Letting out a wavering breath he felt his body relax a bit.

"It has been decided," Snape began again, and this time he looked a bit thoughtful himself, but still with the same rigid posture as before. Harry was sure he never relaxed completely. Did he sleep sitting up? "Are you listening?" Harry's head snapped up to meet the professor, whose eyes were stormy and menacing again.

"Yes, sir," he hurried to say. Snape seemed to doubt this, but said no more.

"It has been decided – by the Headmaster – that you will live with me." Harry heard these words as if through a tube, and for a moment he didn't know at all what to do. "Don't give me that look, Mr Potter," Snape chided immediately. "If you prefer, you can always go back to-"

"No!" he interrupted desperately. "No, no I don't want to go to them again! I won't, I won't!"

"Calm down, you impudent child," Snape said sharply, demanding immediate obedience. "You have no objections?" Harry frowned for a moment, quite unsure of what to say. After a mere few seconds, though, he shook his head.

"No, it's okay," he said, feeling rather surprised that his opinion had been asked at all.

"Very well," Snape said, as if that completely settled the matter. "I have another thing I feel is… imperative we discuss." Harry felt it would be rude to point out that they never "discussed"; even though he'd only known Snape for a very short time, he had noticed that with him – Harry – Snape only held monologues. It was a bit strange, he thought, the way Snape had immediately dropped the subject of his living with him. It seemed, to Harry, that they should speak more of it. "I am aware that you were not treated… fairly at your Aunt and Uncle's." Harry blushed a bit. "However, I do not know in what way they mistreated you. No one is forcing you to talk about it, but I also want you to be well aware that there will be rules here." Harry hadn't doubted this for a moment, especially since Snape had been very firm when he'd said he wouldn't accept any "disrespect or disobedience".

"Okay…" he said slowly, as Snape was looking at him like he was expecting some sort of acknowledgement of Harry's understanding.

"First of all," Snape began, straightening in his chair and assuming what Harry would later call his lecturing-stance. "You will be polite and civil towards everyone in this castle. I will be very displeased if any of the staff here at Hogwarts should ever inform me of you being disrespectful in any way." Harry supposed that was fair, though the prospect unnerved him a bit. He didn't know exactly what Snape considered to be _disrespectful_, and hoped sincerely he would not slip up with this rule.

"While we are here at Hogwarts, you will not wander around the castle or the grounds. There are a lot of places where you could get either lost or hurt, and I haven't the time to run around looking for you every day." He gave Harry a pointed look, and the boy looked down with slight shame on his face. The professor went on, carefully covering everything; giving Harry a bedtime (eight!), telling him where he could be at certain times, telling him he was never, ever allowed in Snape's room or his potions lab, and should he ever be found in there he would most certainly not like the consequences. He spoke of how they should lay out their everyday lives, and of how Harry had to tell him if he needed anything or if he saw anything strange and so on. Harry had no idea how the man could think everything, but he grew more and more agitated as Snape continued to pretty much prohibit anything that would list under the category _fun_.

"Apart from that I want you to get up at seven thirty every day, have a shower and come for breakfast. No pyjamas at the table, I expect to see you fully dressed." Harry fidgeted and tried not to sigh with impatience. "You will not be permitted to eat those vile buns for breakfast. As a growing boy you need to eat properly, understood?" Harry nodded, picking at a loose thread on his trousers. "We might add to the list as we go along," he said finally, and Harry relaxed visibly, causing the man to raise an eyebrow.

"There is another matter of which we need to speak." Harry looked expectantly into Severus' dark eyes. "A lot of supposed experts would disagree with me… us, telling you this, but the Headmaster wants you to know of it as early as possible." He paused, regarding the boy for a moment. "You know your mother and father were killed." Harry felt sadness well up into his stomach and he bit the inside of his cheek, nodding. "The dark wizard who did it also tried to kill you." Harry's eyebrows shot up under his fringe, and the sadness in his eyes mingled with confusion. "Your… mother…" Snape faltered slightly, and for a moment Harry felt the urge to try and comfort him. It was the strangest sensation: that he, as a child, would feel compelled to comfort a fully grown man. It was only a split second later, though, that he regained composure and continued. "Your mother gave her life for you."

"What-"

"It means that she died to protect you," Snape said quickly. "When the Dark Lord tried to kill you with the curse, she stood in between. Because of her sacrifice, he could not murder you as well." Harry had no idea what to think. It was advanced magic explained in a simple way, which might've made it even more confusing. "The scar you have on your head…" Harry touched it absentmindedly. "It is the only visible mark you have of this attempt at murder. It is possible that is has certain… abilities, let's say, but that is yet to be seen." Harry scratched at the back of his hand, thinking of the Dursleys explanation of the scar. That he'd hit his head on something in the car crash. He felt so… so angry with them, and didn't know what to do with the emotion. It would hardly do to lose control completely with Snape there.

"You will notice, as time goes, that most wizards and witches you meet will know who you are."

"How?" he asked simply in a quiet and, in his opinion, pathetic voice.

"What happened that night killed the Dark Lord," Snape said, though he felt the words hitch in his throat as it was a slight lie.

"He's not here anymore?" Harry said, feeling some sort of pride at this.

"Not at the moment," Snape answered mysteriously. "A lot of people are under the impression that you defeated him."

"I did?" This was truly astonishing.

"Not exactly. It is a bit complicated, and I think we will leave it at that." Harry nodded, not at all content with this brief account, but decided to ask Snape more about it later. And maybe Professor Dumbledore as well, at some point. "Are you all right?" The question was forced, but Harry wasn't sure if it was actual concern he could hear in his voice.

"Yes, I'm all right," he answered. "Fine…" Snape frowned a bit, but shook his head.

"Now then." He stood suddenly, and Harry stared up at him, the surprise quite evident in his eyes. "Before we do anything else, you really need to meet the rest of the staff at the school." This made the boy brighten up considerably, and he stood up without hesitation. "Come along." Snape strode straight for the door, and Harry scampered after him, feeling very excited to meet more wizards and witches.

* * *

><p>"Well, Mr Harry Potter." Inside the first door stood an old woman, quite tall and with a rather strict expression. Her mouth looked almost as if she'd got a mouthful of lemon juice in it and she was forcing herself not to grimace. She had small glasses perched on her nose, encircling her greenish grey eyes. The grey brown hair under her pointy hat was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck and she was wearing a long, heavy-looking dress in dark blue and black. "I see nothing could hold you away from this wonderful school." She smiled, and it changed her face completely. "I'm Professor Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House," he said, holding out a nimble and slightly wrinkled hand. Harry took it shyly and shook it once before she let go.<p>

"I felt he should meet the staff," Snape said, and Harry noted instantly that Snape had adopted a rather chilled voice, one he had only heard when he had first met the professor. It scared him a little bit, but he looked at Professor McGonagall instead.

"That is probably wise," the woman answered, her voice also a bit different from before. The boy frowned, wondering why the two seemed to be so hostile towards each other. Then she turned to Harry again, and smiled warmly. "You look very much like your father, young man," she said with equal warmth and Harry turned a bit pink with pleasure. He had yet to see any picture of his father, but he was glad that he looked like him. "Except your eyes, of course." Harry felt Snape stiffen next to him, but he kept staring at the older witch. "They're just like your mother's," she continued softly, and threw a quick glance at Snape.

"Really?" he squeaked. She nodded.

"Really. How are you finding Hogwarts?" she asked him, and Harry was so struck by her actually talking to him that it took him a moment to remember how to speak. It wasn't until Snape nudged him slightly that he blinked and realised she had asked him a question.

"Sorry… It's amazing," he said with shining eyes. "I went out before and…" He fell quiet when he realised he had just brought up the last time he had ended up in Professor Snape's bad books and didn't feel like he could continue. Fortunately, McGonagall didn't seem to mind.

"Yes it is quite astonishing. It shall be interesting to see what House you will be placed in when you start studying here." Harry beamed up at her, and couldn't stop smiling even when they left in search for the others.

"What did she mean by what House I'll be in?" Harry asked Snape as they made their way towards the next professor on Snape's mental list.

"All students are sorted into Houses," Snape explained, momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to be annoyed by all questions the boy posed. "There are four; Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Depending on what you are like as a person, you will end up in one of them."

"But why?" Harry asked with his forehead creased as he did very often lately. Snape sighed.

"To ensure that all students are in an environment where they will meet and be close to people who are somewhat similar to them. Each House has a Common room and a set of dorms. It is a place for students to relax." That was where the explanation stopped, and Harry was still not completely sure he understood. It didn't matter though, as they had reached another door, on which Snape placed three rapid knocks. It soon opened, and Harry was surprised to stand face to face with an old man who was just about as tall as him.

"Harry, this is Professor Filius Flitwick." The man smiled up at him.

"Harry Potter! Well this is certainly an honour. As Professor Snape said, Filius Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw and Charms professor." Harry shook his hand, mesmerised by the man's expressive face and miniature clothes.

"Hello," he said after a moment. Flitwick gave Snape a strange look, and the taller of the two twitched slightly with his head, to which the older and shorter man nodded once.

"Well, how old are you now young man? Nine, ten?"

"Eight, but almost nine," Harry replied quietly.

"Ah. Two more years then. It certainly will be very interesting to see you walking these corridors as a student. Your parents were both fine wizards. Quite gifted, I must say." It was thrilling Harry immensely to hear these professors speak so warmly of his late parents.

They continued their walk, and met Professors Sprout (who offered Harry a chocolate biscuit which he gladly nibbled on, even though Snape declined the offer and looked thoroughly displeased while Harry ate his), Trelawney (who shrieked when she saw Harry and seemed to tremble during their entire visit, while Snape couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes behind her back), Sinistra, Grubblyplank and last, but by accident, and he wasn't a professor, Rubeus Hagrid.

"Harry? Harry Potter! Well I never. I haven' seen you since you was this small," he said, holding his giant hands about a foot apart. "Tiny you was. Took you from Godric's Hollow to yer relatives. Terrible that was. And why are you with Snape?" he asked eventually, only then realising the dour professor standing right next to Harry.

"There have been certain changes in Harry's living arrangements," Snape said in that same cold voice he had used with McGonagall. Harry frowned, getting a bit annoyed with all their strange relationships. Hagrid's eyes grew big.

"He's livin' with you? No! No, Dumbledore wouldn't-"

"The Headmaster was the one who suggested it," Snape interrupted, clamping a hand down on Harry's bony shoulder. "Actually, he insisted on it. I can't say I was overly thrilled at first by the prospect of having James Potter's whelp living under my roof, but what is there to do?" This was the first time Harry had heard Snape speaking like this about Harry's father, and he realised later that it was a mistake on Snape's part. He had never intended to let Harry know of his dislike towards James, as however much he liked to think differently, he didn't want the boy to hate him. He'd had enough of that before.

"I've met you before?" Harry asked, cocking his head to one side and looking up at the fuzzy beard covering the half-giant's face.

"Oh, yes you 'ave," Hagrid beamed. "Almos' eight years ago, mind, but yeah." Harry smiled, too, already liking this person. He was the complete opposite of Snape, and he hoped he would see a lot of him while he lived with Snape.

The hand on his shoulder tightened and began steering Harry back towards the stairs to the dungeons.

"We must be going," Snape said firmly.

"Bye, Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed, finding somewhere the courage to say goodbye. Hagrid was still smiling as he waved at the boy.

"Waste of time," Snape growled as the continued leading the boy back down to the cold of the dungeons. He was pushed into Snape's quarters and the door was almost slammed behind him. Snape was, for some reason, in a rather foul mood, and Harry kept very quiet as the man rummaged about for something or other. Catching Harry's eye, he pointed at the couch, and Harry scurried over and sat down.

"I will need to go and work soon," Snape informed him. "I don't want you destroying all my possessions while I am gone, understood?" Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir." This was the standard answer with Snape. Harry didn't mind; it was easy to remember and say quickly, and Snape always seemed pleased with it.

"Go on in to your room," he said then, yet again with a different kind of tone. This one was quiet, almost bordering on soft, and Harry came to recognise it as one where he was thinking of something else. Glad to be alone for a bit, he jumped off the couch and strolled into what had become his room and sat on the bed, his legs folded up under him. His head full of the new information, he began thinking of the rules Snape had spoken of only hours earlier. It didn't seem like they were anything like the ridiculous and impossible ones the Dursleys had set for him, but he felt a tad nervous anyway. Snape had said nothing more than that failing to follow the rules would have _consequences_. Harry hadn't dared to ask what they'd be, but he couldn't help his wondering. Of course, his new guardian's recent rebuke was a slight hint, but Harry had no experience with this kind of authority. With his relatives, he'd just try to stay out of their way, and run and hide should they be angry with him for some reason.

The rules had, in any case, made him realise two things. Firstly, they'd made the whole thing real. He wasn't going back to his relatives (muggles, Snape had called them and Harry had sniggered under his breath), ever, and Snape would adopt him. The boy had a vague idea of what this ultimately meant and felt slightly warm inside at the thought of it. Secondly, they had made him aware of the fact that even though Snape had been kind enough to rescue him (a great rescue and a relieving escape was what it was to Harry), he was obviously a busy and, perhaps more importantly for Harry, strict man. It was clear that he wouldn't like any silliness or fooling about on Harry's part (and probably not on anyone else's part either).

Harry bit his lower lip and furrowed his brow in deep concentration as he tried to make sense of it all. Snape had also said something like "creating a routine" for everyday life. To a boy of almost nine years, this seemed terribly much like being put in a cage. At the Dursleys, he'd had practically no freedom at all, and for some reason he had thought it would change for the better now. It _was_ better, of course, but he was most likely going to be kept on a shorter lead than he would like.

As he thought of these particular depressing pictures, there was a sharp rap on the door before it swung open. In strode Professor Snape, obviously, looking dark and a bit menacing as always. This was the first time Harry realised that the professor liked a bit like a bat. But his hooked nose was definitely more like a bird's beak. This extracted a small giggle from him, and Snape raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"And what is it you find so amusing?" Harry straightened up and did his best to look placid.

"Nothing," he said quietly, glancing pleadingly up at the man through his fringe.

"Keep in mind, young man, that I do not care for dishonesty." _He doesn't like anything that begins with the letters dis_, Harry thought pensively, before nodding vigorously at the professor's ominous words.

"Yes, sir." Snape snorted before he spoke again.

"As I said, I have work I need to attend to," he announced. "For a while, you will have to be alone when I work. In time, I will find someone to watch you." Harry grimaced ever so slightly at the mention of a babysitter, but checked himself in a split second. He doubted Snape liked grimacing and pouting. Come to think of it, there wasn't much at all that Snape liked. Not even chocolate biscuits!

"I want you to stay here and not cause any trouble. You may go into the living room if you wish, but stay out of my rooms, remember? You have toys to play with and books to read, so it shouldn't be a problem. If you really need me…" He fished out a silver chain on which there was a small, silver oval plate, engraved with an S. "Press the plate between your thumb and index finger." He put the chain around the boy's wrist and made sure it was securely fastened. "And I mean it when I say to use it if you _really_ need me. Emergencies only. Understood?" Harry nodded and shook his hand so he could see the S, the silver glinting in the scant light from the lantern on the wall. Snape pulled out his pocket watch.

"I really must go. So stay here and out of trouble. Is that perfectly clear?" Harry nodded, still looking at the chain around his wrist. Seconds later, he felt cold, slim fingers under his chin, forcing him to look up at his guardian.

"I said, is that _clear_?" Snape repeated in a lot, stern voice.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied automatically, not able to enforce his understanding with a nod as the professor was still holding his chin in place.

"Good boy," Snape said, and Harry raised his eyebrows at the praise. The man acknowledged nothing of this gesture, but just turned around and strode out of the room. The child sighed and flung back onto the bed, staring straight up without really registering what he was seeing. It was quite surprising, he thought, how quickly he was getting used to everything. And he hasn't questioned any of it, for several reasons: Snape would probably not like it, he didn't mind leaving the Dursleys (_at all_), he wasn't sure what to question, and so on. For a moment, he pictured Snape as his dad. They might live in a small house somewhere, with a garden. Maybe they could have a dog to take for walks. And go to cricket and rugby matches like Dudley and Uncle Vernon did sometimes. Or did wizards do that? He'd have to look into it.

After he'd let these pleasant thoughts circulate in his head for a while, he changed course unconsciously. Thinking about what kind of person Snape was, he didn't think it was likely that they'd live in a nice house, with a playful dog and a pretty garden. Harry liked gardens. When he'd been gardening at his relatives, he was all alone and could play all he wanted. Quietly and carefully, of course, but still. They rarely ever came into the garden, and so it had become his very own playground. Winters were usually a horror, as the bitter weather would keep him inside and hide away his lawn and flowerbeds until the spring.

Huffing a bit, he sat up and got off the bed, looking around. It was the first time he'd been left all on his own, and he felt a bit lost. What would he do? Just a few moments later he decided he would look around in Snape's quarters. Though he supposed they were sort of his now, too. It felt nice to have somewhere that might actually feel like home after he'd settled in. He wondered fleetingly if they would live there all the time, and found himself not really minding. Hogwarts' grounds seemed amazing, and he was certain he would be able to explore for years before he knew all of it. Then again, considering the size of the place, it was probable that he would never know _all_ of it.

All these things went through his head as he wandered out of his room and into the living area. Everything was still in there, and the silence felt incredibly heavy, pressing on his ears. He looked around at all the paintings. Upon looking at the wall opposite him, he spotted a photograph. He could see it was of a person, and that is was moving, but that was it. The small size and the fact that it was the only photo he's seen in the room caught his attention. He trotted over to it and looked carefully at it. As the paintings all moved, he wasn't too surprised that the photos did too.

It was of a young woman, sitting on the ground and leaning against the thick trunk of a tree. She looked to be about fifteen or sixteen and was wearing a school uniform of some sort, with the top buttons undone and the tie loosened lazily. Her hair was a startling red, pulled back from her face by a hair band. She was looking right at the camera, her green eyes bright in the sunshine, and she was laughing and waving, sometimes tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear in a nervous and self-conscious sort of way. In a kind of trance Harry waved at her. Unlike the paintings he'd seen, she didn't wave back, didn't seem to see him at all. For some reason, he felt a pang of sadness at this. The look on her face held something familiar in it, something he couldn't place. He forced himself to look away and quickly settled with Tales of Beedle the Bard on the couch.

* * *

><p>An hour later, it had got a bit darker in the room and Harry finally looked up from the book, a rather dazed look in his eyes. It felt almost as if he had, for a while, forgotten where he was. With a few blinks he was brought back to reality, and he put the book face down on the sofa. He was tired of reading, and felt no desire to play with the toys he had recently been given. Along with his boredom came the question of where Snape was. He'd said he had to work, but Harry thought he had been away an awfully long time. Didn't he know that it was horrible to play on your own, if you had people nearby who might be able to play with you? <em>Maybe he doesn't<em>, Harry thought. Snape obviously had no idea of what it was like to be almost nine years old.

He swung his legs a bit, and the toes of his shoes brushed against the worn rug. Curiosity had joined his other feelings, and it itched in him to go and look around the castle. Maybe he could find and talk to Professor Dumbledore. Or visit Hagrid, or see if Professor Sprout had any more of those chocolate biscuits… But Snape had told him to stay, and the last time Harry had wandered, he – Snape – hasn't been very pleased. Quite the opposite. Harry blushed a bit even though he was all alone. _On the other hand,_ his brain said, _he wouldn't have to know._

But he always knows.

_Not if you're careful._

I was careful last time.

_Maybe you shouldn't go outside this time._

What if the other professors see me and tell Snape then?

_Just don't let anyone see you._

Could I manage that?

_Of course you could._

Maybe… I s'pose I could try.

_Exactly, that's the spirit!_

After this short, internal debate, he sighed, hopped off the couch and tried to stroll casually towards the door. Looking around him, as if he expected Snape to jump out of the fireplace, he then tried the door handle. It wasn't locked (what were the odds?), so he opened it quietly and nipped out, carefully shutting the door behind him.

The dark corridor was quiet, and Harry, remembering the way up, headed straight for the stairs. Nervousness chewed the inside of his stomach, but it was the exciting kind, and his eyes shone as he walked cautiously up the steps.

He saw no one as he got to the top, and started walking without any final destination. All he knew was that he wanted to get to the "entrance place" first and then continue up. As the school was a castle, it was bound to have several towers, the boy concluded as he reached the Entrance Hall. Hiding behind a suit of armour, he peered around the corner. The large area was completely devoid of people. He waited a few more seconds just to be sure and then walked forwards, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. The place was rather breathtaking when you got a good look at it, and Harry stared around him, mesmerised. Across from him, he noticed for the first time a set of enormous double doors. They were almost the size of the front doors, and Harry could hardly fathom how he had missed them previously. After all, this was where they'd bumped into Hagrid, so he had seen the place a few times.

He didn't actually walk over there consciously, but before he knew it he was two feet away from the monstrous things, and had to crane his neck terribly to see the top of them, almost toppling over in the process. He wondered what on Earth they might hide, and again, that nuisance curiosity flared up inside him. His only worry was that there might be people in there. The size of the doors made them look important, which made them if possible even more intriguing and intimidating.

Making a snap decision, he almost smiled to himself as he reached out and up to grasp the massive iron handle of the left hand door. One would have thought opening the door would have been impossible for such a small and slight child, but Harry only had to pull lightly and it opened a crack. His heart thumping loudly (he was almost surprised people didn't come running, what with it beating so hard and noisily), he stuck his head through the gap.

Inside was the biggest room he had ever seen. The biggest room he could have possibly imagined, really. It was long and rectangular, the walls practically made of glass with the vast amount of large, beautiful windows covering them. Four long tables stretched from a few feet in front him all the way to the other end of the room. At the far end, at the other short side, was an elevated platform on which another table stood. The chairs were facing the room, and in the middle stood a magnificent throne-like piece of furniture, with elaborate decorations on the back and armrests.

It looked like an abnormally large dining room; Harry supposed the school must house an impressive amount of students, considering the size of pretty much everything. Once again he found himself longing for the day he would start Hogwarts, and thought of in what House he might be. He made a mental note to ask Snape what House he had been in, and what kind of people were in what House. It was still two years away, but for something that seemed so spectacular, he was willing to wait. Pulling his gaze firmly away from the splendid sight, he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

As he wandered slowly up the stairs, thinking about where to go next, he again felt like someone was watching him. He spun around looking into all corners visible, but seeing no one. It unnerved him quite a bit, and he suddenly became extremely apprehensive. The last time he'd felt this, he'd found himself suddenly being dragged back to the dungeons by an irate Professor Snape. Losing all will to investigate the castle further, he turned and ran down the stairs back into the Entrance Hall.

Before he could stop, he ran through what looked like a transparent silhouette of a person, and he felt very chilled for a moment, a most uncomfortable feeling spreading through his body. When it stopped, he turned around sharply, and yelled aloud at what he saw.

Floating in mid-air in front of him was a greyish and, yes, transparent person.

"Harry Potter. So nice to meet you," he said as Harry continued to gawk.


	7. The Stone Doe

**Hello there!**

**So I'm finally done with chapter 7. Quite pleased with it, so do tell me what you think!**

**Things will speed up a bit from here. I can hardly write detailed descriptions of every day...**

**Enjoy!**

**Ivy**

* * *

><p>Severus Snape left his quarters and strode with decisive steps towards the Headmaster's office. He had told the child he had work to do, which wasn't in itself a lie. It just wasn't Potions work. No, he needed to speak to Professor Dumbledore about the future arrangements. As well as the present ones, he supposed as his boots thumped against the stone steps. The day seemed to have dragged on forever. He couldn't believe it was only yesterday he fetched the child.<p>

Being a teacher didn't necessarily mean he knew how to care full time for a child. His job didn't include worrying about a boy's health, or consoling him when he was upset. Of course, he acted as a part time parent for his snakes, in _loco parentis_, but the relationships were still rather formal. Snape didn't condone in any form of disrespect, and his Slytherins knew this very well. At least now he had put down the rules for the Potter whelp. Not that he really expected him to obey them. If he was like his father in anything but looks, he'd probably have all the staff wrapped around his little finger within the week, and the school on fire within a few days.

Snape snorted and rounded the last corner, seeing the gargoyle that guarded the office of the Headmaster. It irritated him every time he came there how Albus never could settle for an appropriate password. Tightening his jaw, he slowed his pace as he reached the stone monster. It broke into a slight grin at him.

"Well hello, Professor Snape," it greeted in some form of mock politeness. Snape ground his teeth together, but forced himself to remain calm. The Headmaster didn't do anything to help with his polite conversations with the creature. It was made of stone, for Merlin's sake!

"I need to see the Headmaster," he said, as always refusing to give the password. Well, at least until it was, once again, made quite evident that he had to if he wanted to enter at all.

"Oh, but sir, you will need to tell me the password. As state the rules, you know."

"I am quite familiar with the rules of the school, thank you very much. But you know who I am."

"Oh, but what if you are someone disguised as Professor Snape?" the creature sang.

"I…" He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, and decided then and there that he would just give up being stubborn (though he would object should anyone ever call him stubborn) and start giving the password right away. Save him lots of time, surely. "Acid pops." Most of the passwords were reoccurring, and it had recently changed to one of the Headmaster's favourites. The gargoyle chuckled evilly and jumped aside, allowing the irate Potions Master to enter and step onto the rotating staircase. He gave a quick knock on the door when he arrived at the top, and it instantly swung open for him. Albus Dumbledore was sitting in a comfortable armchair by his fireplace, a cup of tea on a rickety table at his elbow. He looked up when Severus walked in, and gave him his usual smile with the accompanying twinkle of his blue eyes.

"Severus! What a pleasant surprise." This was often his opening line, and it nagged the Potions Master every time. There wasn't much that surprised the Headmaster, and his calling certainly wasn't one of the things that did.

"Headmaster," Snape nodded in acknowledgement and sat down in the chair Dumbledore offered him.

"Would you care for some tea? The House elves just brought me a splendid pot of raspberry tea. Quite exceptional, I must say."

"No thank you, Albus," he replied as courteously as he could. The Headmaster seemed to import new flavours of tea every week, and Snape generally kept at a safe distance. At least raspberry wasn't quite as flamboyant as his last obsession; lemon, cinnamon and apple. Severus felt positively revolted at the thought.

"Ah, you are missing a good cup, my boy," Albus said, winking at him before taking a well measured sip. "What can I do for you?" he then proceeded to ask, assuming correctly that there was a pressing matter of which Severus wished to speak to him about.

"Albus, I know we have all but signed the adoption papers, but I am still of the opinion that we need to discuss the situation," Snape said matter-of-factly.

"Of course, my boy. There are always aspects of such life-altering decisions that need discussing. Is there any particular part you wish to bring to light? I suspect you have thought about our earlier conversation and already found some objection or other. Usually you do not visit twice in a day…"

"I need to know if this will be permanent."

"As I said, until his ninth-"

"After that, Albus. If I do adopt him, then he's staying. I won't have you sending him anywhere near those filthy Muggles, and you will let me deal with him as I see fit. The wretched boy is already half destroyed but I am hoping that I can coax him into some form of normality in time. His knowledge of respect and obedience is absolutely atrocious." Dumbledore forced away a smile, and Snape gave him a suspicious glare.

"Naturally, Severus. If you adopt him you are his father." Snape ground his teeth together in frustration with such a title. "You will then, of course, be able to 'deal with him as you see fit', as you phrase it." Snape nodded curtly and stared into the fire. "Severus, please…" He snapped his head up and stared quizzically at the Headmaster. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing apart from the fact that I am suddenly stuck with in insufferable eight-year-old for the summer. One that will grow into a loathsome teenager and still be forced upon me."

"Severus…"

"He looks too much like his father for his own good," he spat.

"He has Lily's eyes." Snape clenched his bony hands around the armrests of the chair, refusing to meet Dumbledore's eyes. "Lily would be glad to see that you are caring for her boy," he said softly. "She always quite disliked her sister, and if she knew how they were treating him she would be furious, you know this. She would _want_ Harry to be with you, Severus."

"Meanwhile his father will be turning in his grave."

"James respected you," Albus put in. "You simply didn't have the time to get over your school-day-squabbles." Snape felt like pointing out that it had been more than that, but wasn't really prepared or in the mood to get into a battle of that sort with Albus. However much he said he trusted and respected Snape, he knew that he would always favour his beloved Gryffindors, especially James and Lily. Not that Lily needed defending. She'd always been such a powerful and independent woman. Snape felt a stab of sadness and longing as he thought of her beautiful smiling face, and tried at once to expel the image. It didn't do to dwell on the past, as the Headmaster kept reminding him. Missing and still loving, yes. But not wishing. It was useless.

"About the boy…" Snape continued, ignoring the Headmaster's last statement, "He needs tutoring." Albus nodded. "I won't have him starting Hogwarts without knowing anything of the Wizarding world. Being the 'Boy Who Lived', as well as my ward, he will need to have some form of knowledge before he starts school."

"Naturally," Albus nodded. "What do you propose?"

"Potions, Charms and Herbology. Possibly Defence in a year or so," Snape answered immediately, having given the matter a lot of thought during the day.

"That sounds like a very good idea," Dumbledore replied. "Who will teach him charms and Herbology?"

"I was thinking of asking Filius for the Charms of course. If Pomona has time, she can help me with the Herbology."

"Ah, yes, I seem to recall that you had good marks in Herbology," Albus nodded.

"It was required if I were to be a Potions Master, Albus," Snape drawled with boredom.

"Of course, my boy," he nodded in response. "Though I must mention that Minerva will most likely be disappointed if she does not get to teach him too," he added with a small smile. Severus snorted.

"She will have time to do so later. It is only two years until he will enrol at the school."

"Very true, my dear boy." He paused for a moment breaking eye contact with Snape to stare into the fire for a moment. "In regard of the boy's education, I, too, have a request." Snape's eyes narrowed. The Headmaster's requests were rarely a walk in the park, and would usually require sacrifices, probably from Snape himself.

"What might that be?" he asked as politely as he could muster. Dumbledore took a measured sip of his tea, looking straight into Severus' eyes for a few moments before he replied.

"We are," he began, placing his teacup back on the saucer, "both aware that Voldemort will at some point return. Furthermore, it is to assume that he will come after Harry." Snape clenched his hands tightly around the armrests again, and nodded curtly. "I believe, as you are aware, that what happened that night was more than just a miracle. I am certain of the fact that the two share some kind of bond." Again Severus nodded. Five years ago, almost exactly, Albus had spoken to him of this. This supposed bond between the then three-year-old boy and the darkest wizard of all time. "I think it would be to Harry's benefit if he was taught Occlumency."

"Occlumency? At the age of eight? Are you _mad_, old man?"

"Not yet, of course," Dumbledore hurried to say, taking care to ensure that Snape had calmed sufficiently before he went on. "Later, when he's a bit older."

"Albus, you know well that Occlumency requires a lot of concentration, and certain strength of mind. Nothing to be found in a child," he spat.

"Harry is quite an amazing child," Dumbledore mused. "The magic that radiates off him can be felt by both you and me." Snape tensed his jaw. "We will wait, of course. But in time, he must be taught."

"Does it never occur to you, _Headmaster_, that he should be allowed a childhood like everyone else?"

"Ah, but Severus, he isn't everyone else," Dumbledore replied with a sad smile, warming his tea again with a flick of his hand.

"But he is a _boy_," Severus stressed. "You have to recognise that, I implore you."

"I am fully aware of what he is, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "But it cannot be ignored that he is in an unusual situation."

"Unusual? _Unusual_? Headmaster, this has not happened before. He is in a _unique_ situation."

"Which is precisely why we must take every precaution possible," Dumbledore asserted firmly.

"You are being purposely impossible!" Snape exploded.

"Severus, calm yourself," was the response. The younger man had at this point stood up, and was fighting some repressed teenage impulse to scream at the Headmaster. That would, ultimately, not achieve anything, and he almost flinched at the idea of his losing it. He was a _grown_ man. Breathing deeply, he sat back down, his back rigid as he refused to meet the eyes of his mentor. "You know I have only what will be best for the boy in mind. You must trust me when I say that Occlumency will be vital for his getting out of this." Snape nodded curtly. Dumbledore sighed and banished the tea back to the kitchens. "Shall I contact Pomona for you?"

"No thank you, I will take care of that tomorrow morning. It is getting late."

"Yes, it is. I believe it is time for supper soon. Will you and young Harry be joining us in the Great Hall?" he asked, looking serenely at Severus.

"No, we will be dining in my quarters," he responded. "I suppose we are all done here." Dumbledore nodded, a sad look in his clear blue eyes as he gazed at the Potions Master through his spectacles.

"Yes, of course my boy." Snape turned and started for the door. "Severus?" He turned and looked blankly back at the sitting man. "You can always come here, should you need to talk."

"Yes, Headmaster," he nodded and then exited the room. Closing the door behind him, he sighed deeply and closed his eyes briefly, hand still resting on the door knob. Shaking his head, he straightened and walked down the stairs, his robes billowing behind him as he walked through the castle. As he started down the first flight of stairs, the silver ring with the engraved S began glowing and felt warm on his hand. He growled. So Potter had decided to disobey him and go wandering again? Just like him. Flipping out his wand, Severus performed a quick Point me spell and marched in the direction his wand pointed.

* * *

><p>Harry stared, completely baffled, at the man in front of him. He was dressed in very odd clothes, which looked like a very out of date fashion, and there seemed to be a long slit across the man's neck.<p>

"I… W… Who are you?" he eventually managed, in a very high pitched voice. It felt rude to stare at him, but he really couldn't help himself. A person who was see through! And flying! And that you could walk right through!

"Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington," he answered in a posh sort of voice, straightening his collar and looking down his nose at Harry. _That's an odd sort of name,_ Harry thought, wrinkling his nose a bit. "Though most of those rude students call me Nearly-Headless Nick." He snorted, and Harry supposed he didn't much like that name.

"Why… I can see through you," Harry stated, his green eyes still the size of an average saucer.

"Yes, that is an unfortunate trait of a ghost, dear boy," Nicholas answered with a long sigh.

"A ghost!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, what did you think?" Nicholas enquired suspiciously.

"Oh… Oh, nothing at all," Harry mumbled, unsure of what to answer. He hadn't really thought anything other than the fact that this man was very strange with his grey appearance and weird clothing. "So you're actually… dead?" Sir Nicholas sniffed a bit.

"Yes I am afraid so."

"How… How long?" Harry asked, still curious.

"Oh, it will be 496 years now," he replied casually. Harry gaped in astonishment. Almost 500 years! It was too long for the young boy to fully comprehend, so he merely nodded weakly. "Now tell me, what are you doing here at Hogwarts? There aren't any students here now, they were all sent home over the weekend to allow the professors to search the castle. And anyway, you look a wee bit small to be here anyway. Say, how old are you? Seven?"

"I'm almost nine," Harry replied indignantly.

"Really? You look terrifically slight for your age, I must say." Harry huffed, feeling very insulted indeed by this remark.

"I'm not that small," he defended himself in a quiet voice. The ghost chuckled.

"Well, I'd best be off. I am planning on visiting the Lady. Though she does not always respond well to visitors…" He sighed, and turned, floating away, his hands clasped on his back. Harry stared after him, in the end quite awed by him. A ghost… Shaking his head, he remembered that he was in a hurry to get back to the dungeons. Getting a move on, he was soon scampering along the hallways towards the Potion Master's quarters. While he was bounding down the stairs, a hand suddenly clamped down on his left shoulder. The surprise of it had him jumping about three feet into the air, and he turned around fully with a bit of encouragement from the hand. Professor Snape looked anything but pleased as he glowered down at his ward.

"Mr Potter," he said silkily. "Decided to break the rules again? And on the same day as well." The Professor shook his head. "Come along." With his hand still firmly on the boy's shoulder, he steered them both back to his rooms, closing the door loudly behind them. "Sit," he said curtly, nodding to the chair in front of his desk. Harry wandered over and sat down on the edge of the stool. _Always, always_, he thought glumly. _I wasn't even gone that long!_ Snape rounded on him, and leaned on the desk with his arms folded over his chest, quite a common stance for the stern man. Harry squirmed a bit in his seat, apprehensive of the tongue-lashing he felt certain that he would soon receive. Snape's hard eyes never wavered, and the boy found it utterly impossible to look up at him.

"Would you care to inform me, Mr Potter, why you were gallivanting around the castle when I quite clearly told you to stay here?" he finally asked, his voice impressive in the otherwise silent room. Harry gulped, both audibly and visibly, and bit the inside of his cheek. "Twice in one day have you now defied me," he continued coolly, his stern gaze capturing and holding the child's green eyes. "I thought I made it abundantly clear that I do not accept or condone in any form of disobedience."

"I'm sorry, professor," Harry said eventually, almost in a whisper. "I didn't-"

"Mean to?" Snape cut him off, glaring menacingly. He leaned forward, getting closer to the frightened little face. "Do not lie to me, boy." Harry winced a bit and tipped his chin down to meet his chest. "It was an extremely stupid thing to do, and you should very well be in deep trouble now, young man." Harry fidgeted. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, sir," Harry murmured, still not looking at the irate man.

"I am not making you stay here because it amuses me to bore you," Snape said, softening ever so slightly. "The castle is almost empty at the moment, with the students at home for the weekend, and you could so easily get lost, or hurt." Harry's lower lip wobbled a bit and he bit down on it instead of his cheek, hoping to stop its trembling. Those long, cold fingers grabbed his chin and tipped his head back up to meet the professors eyes. "Never again. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered.

"Good boy," Snape mumbled, letting go of his face. "Now come. We shall have supper and then you can bath before bed."

* * *

><p>The following day went altogether much better. Harry stayed where he was put, and Snape did try to give him things to do. The boy discovered that if he was quiet and did as he was told, his guardian was quite pleasant. Well, all right to be around anyway. That evening, just as they'd finished their supper, Harry was called to the living room. He trotted back out of his room and spotted Snape sitting in his chair.<p>

"Ah, Mr Potter. Come here, please." Harry, having quickly caught on, obeyed wordlessly, and headed over for the professor, sitting down on the couch when asked. "Tomorrow is Monday, as you know, and the students will all be returning this evening. You won't see them now, of course, but tomorrow…" He paused, eyeing the boy. "I have classes to teach, as you know. In five weeks it is summer and they go home again, but until then we need to find out what to do with you." Harry nodded mutely, wondering what he would have to do all days while Snape was working. Probably just sit and read. He couldn't help but let a small sigh escape, and saw one of the Potions Master's eyebrows shoot up. He blushed.

"Shall I read all day, sir?" Harry asked timidly. Snape made no reaction at first, but inside he smirked. Even though he would love to force the child into reading all day, that would hardly work. He would be up to some mischief before lunch.

"No, I don't think so," Snape replied evenly. Harry looked curious and fidgeted a bit.

"Really? Then what will I do? Can I be in one of your classes? Potions seem like fun!" During the day, he had been permitted to watch Snape brew for a few minutes. The boy had been completely taken by the process and had immediately begun whinging about when he could join in again.

"No, Potter, you will not be sitting in on a class. Not yet," he added, too tired for an argument with the energetic boy. In all honesty, he felt almost pleased that Harry seemed interested in Potions. Maybe there was some hope for him, after all. Lily had been ace at the subject, so maybe… Snape mentally shook himself to rid of the thought.

"Oh okay… But then what? Can't I visit Hagrid? He said today I could! He doesn't have classes, does he? So he wouldn't be busy. I could help him with-"

"Potter," Snape growled, and Harry fell silent, looking rather abashed at his outbreak. "Thank you. Now, because all teachers are busy, I have arranged for two of my older students to look after you. When one is in class, the other takes you, and vice versa."

"Oh. What are their names? What House are they in? Can I play with them?"

"Potter!" Snape barked, and Harry blushed profusely. "They are Slytherins, of course, and in their final year, which means they don't have as many classes. You will meet them tomorrow morning right after breakfast." He hadn't given their names, and could see a shadow of a pout on Potter's face. "Go on, have your bath and then get changed for bed." Harry, not being tired at all, dragged his feet along the carpet.

"Do I have to go to bed?" he asked shyly, stopping and turning his head to the dour man.

"Yes. It is eight o'clock and you need to bath first. By the time you're done it will be eight-thirty which you know full well is your bedtime. Now off you go." Harry huffed quietly and trudged to his room. Snape sighed deeply, and summoned a tray with a teapot and cup. The boy was frightfully curious, and didn't seem particularly intimidated by his tall and menacing stature. How was it that an eight-year-old felt so comfortable around him, when he could make sixteen-year-olds whimper by just looking at them?

While sipping his tea, he thought of what the coming days would look like. He had owled two of his best students to ask them the favour. They had replied with an agreeing answer. Of course, in return, they would be paid a small sum and allowed in the lab after class hours. As they were both studying Potions at NEWT level, they'd been very enthusiastic about the opportunity. Severus was really more worried that Harry would make life hell for the two. He relied on the students to keep him out of trouble, but if something happened he could hardly hold only them accountable. The small boy was a handful.

He finished his first cup of tea and was just about to poor himself a second when he heard a crash from the bathroom. Jumping to his feet, he was in the room in but a few seconds. There was Harry, dressed in his pyjamas and his hair wet and dripping. He was standing by the bathtub, wringing his hands, and spun around when he heard Snape enter.

"What was that?" he demanded immediately, lowering his wand when he realised there was no danger.

"Erm…"

"_Potter_."

"I dropped it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he hurried to say. Snape peered over the boy and into the tub. The small stone sculpture of a doe that was kept on a shelf was lying on the bottom, thankfully in one piece. There was, however, a dent in the tub.

"How did this end up in there?" he asked sternly, carefully picking the thing up to check for any damage.

"I picked it up," Harry mumbled.

"From the shelf?" The boy nodded. "What on Earth for?" Harry shrugged. "A verbal answer, please," Snape commanded.

"Dunno," he muttered. "It's pretty…" Snape's thumb stroked the object's neck.

"Yes, it is." Regaining composure, he quickly replaced the doe on its shelf and mended the dent in the tub with a flick of his wand. "Don't touch things that don't belong to you."

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded.

"Go on, get into bed," Snape continued, placing a hand on the small back to encourage him along and into his bedroom. When they arrived Harry walked slowly, looking morose, to his bed.

"Do I have to?" he asked, and Snape noticed him stifling a yawn. Suppressing the urge to smirk, he nodded.

"You do indeed have to," he stated as the boy flung aside the covers and got in bed. "I will see you tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night, p'fessor…" Harry mumbled, his eyes half-closed. Rolling his eyes, Snape dimmed the room and walked out, leaving the door open.

* * *

><p>It was seven o'clock and the Slytherin Common room was already bustling with activity. It was a general routine that their Head of House came in at seven-thirty to make sure that all of his students were up and dressed and ready for breakfast, as classes started at ten past eight. The seventh year Prefects, Henry Wolff and Joanne White, were sitting on one of the couches, waiting nervously. They had both agreed to watch Professor Snape's ward when they had free time, and were getting quite edgy about it all. Snape had a ward? And he would trust them with him? Of course it was humbling that he thought they were suited for the job, but the thought of infuriating the Professor by not taking care of the child correctly scared them both witless.<p>

At precisely thirty minutes past seven, they heard the door to the Common room open, and both prefects stood up. Severus Snape strode inside, fully dressed in his teaching robes, looking over the students who had all stopped and quieted at his entrance. Giving a curt nod, students started filing out. He then headed for the waiting prefects.

"Mr Wolff, Miss White," he greeted.

"Professor Snape," they said in unison.

"If you would follow me to my office, I will introduce you to my ward before you head to class." They both silently wandered after the professor. Exiting the Common room, they followed the corridor to the door into the Slytherin Head's office. He opened the door and allowed the teenagers to walk in first before he followed and closed the door. Sitting in front of the desk was Harry, who turned around eagerly as he heard them enter. The two NEWT students stopped dead and stared in amazement at the smiling boy.

"Isn't that…"

"It must be…"

"Yes, yes," Snape said impatiently, ushering them to stand by the desk as he rounded it and stood behind it. "This is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Henry Wolff and Joanne White."

"Hello!" he said cheerfully, alternating between gazing at the boy and girl.

"Now I know that you, Miss White, have two free hours until your first class. You needn't be with him all the time, but he is allowed in the Slytherin Common room, so you can bring him in there. Study if you need to, he shouldn't bother you." Here he sent Harry a warning glance, and the boy huffed quietly. Henry bit his lip as to not laugh, and just stood with his back straight, facing Snape. The girl replied with a "Yes, professor" to this. "I will make some sort of schedule by tomorrow, but until then just switch when either of you need to be in class." They chorused a "Yes, sir", and Harry simply sat with his arms folded, fed up with the unfairness of the world. "Potter?" He snapped his head up to meet the eyes of his guardian. "Don't give them any trouble. If you do, I will know." Harry nodded, and the older students winced. "Mr Potter, tell me, have I ever accepted that sort of answer?"

"No, sir," he said quietly.

"Indeed. You will do well to remember to always give me a verbal answer."

"Yes, sir." Henry seemed to take pity on the kid and ruffled his hair discreetly. Harry spun around and beamed at him. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Very well. Head to breakfast and then you can pick Harry up here when you're done, Miss White."

"Yes, sir," she said, and with a wink to Harry, she walked out of the office with Henry in tow.

"They seem nice!" Harry commented enthusiastically.

"Hmm," was Snape's distant reply as he perused a piece of parchment in front of him. Harry stuffed his hands under his thighs.

"Professor?" he asked after a moment, and Snape looked up. "If they need to study, what will I do?" he asked, a thoughtful look on his young face. Snape put down his quill and clasped his hands.

"You can read, if you like, or bring some of your toys to the Common room. If they do study, don't disturb them. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. "But can't they play with me?"

"They might do that, yes. If they have time. Get to know them, first of all, and we'll see what happens in the future." Harry nodded and hopped off the chair, walking around the office. The room was connected with Snape's quarters through a door, and this was his first time in the room. He looked around at all the strange bottled things on shelves around the room. It was very different from Snape's living room. This place felt cold, not at all as welcoming as his quarters. Harry wrinkled his nose, deciding that he didn't like the office.

"What do you look to disgusted about?" He turned to find Snape looking at him with a quizzical expression.

"I don't like this room," he said.

"It is not to be liked by small children," Snape told him.

"Well that's stupid," Harry decided.

"It is not stupid, Potter," Snape sighed. "Come here and sit down now." Huffing, Harry trudged back to his chair and sat down.

"Aren't they coming soon?" he asked, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"Miss White needs to have breakfast, Potter, then she will come and get you and I will go to work."

"When can I do potions again?" he asked, completely changing the subject. Snape chucked his quill irritably onto the desk, realising he wouldn't get anything done with this child in the same room.

"You don't 'do' potions, Potter," he snapped. "You brew them. And if you keep up this whinging, then you won't see a lab until you start school." Harry folded his arms and banged his heel against the leg of the chair, refusing to look at the professor. "Potter." Snape's voice sounded menacing, and Harry reluctantly looked up. "Check your attitude right now, young man," Snape warned.

"But you're being mean!"

"Unless you wish to spend the day with a sore bottom, I advise you to be silent right now." Harry's mouth closed quickly under such a threat, and he felt his face turning crimson. "You need to watch how you speak to me and other adults, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," he answered dutifully.

"Very good." At this point, there was a polite knock on the door, and Snape went to open personally. "Miss White, do come in." Harry stood up hurriedly, and smiled at Joanne when she entered.

"Hello there," she said, giving him a smile in return.

"Hi! My name's Harry," he said, having already forgotten that Snape had somewhat introduced him earlier.

"Yes I know. My name's Joanne," she replied, and held out her hand for him to shake. "Are you ready to go?" she asked kindly. Harry turned to look at Snape.

"Mr Potter just needs to fetch a book or two before you go."

"Oh, okay then," Joanne replied. "Go and fetch what you need and then we'll head to the Common room." Harry nodded enthusiastically and bounded through the door to Snape's personal rooms.

"Thank you for this, Miss White," Snape said in the absence of the boy.

"Oh that's no worry. He seems nice enough. My little brothers are a right pain in the- I mean they're quite a handful, sir," she checked herself, forcing away a blush. Snape allowed a small smirk to creep out.

"I can imagine. Don't let him do what he wants. You're in charge, all right?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded as Harry came back into the room, carrying Tales of Beedle the Bard as well as a small box with three miniature dragons.

"There!" he said proudly.

"All right! I'll see you in class, professor," she said, and opened the door for Harry.

"Behave yourself," Snape directed at the boy who was following Joanne eagerly.

"Yeah, I will!" he answered, and they were both gone before Snape could correct his sloppy way of expressing himself. The man sighed deeply before he gathered his things to head to the Potions Classroom and prepare for the first class of the day: Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw second years. It could be worse, he supposed.


	8. Fraternal twins

**I know. It's short. *weeps* I'm sorry, but it should end there. You know? Otherwise it would've ended up being, like, two and a half chapters in one. Which is just no good. **

**Well then. Eight chapters complete! It's been going bloody fast, I reckon anyway. Which might change now, as I start school in two days. Something I am actually looking forward to. I mean, is it just me or does being free for so long during the summer get boring after a while? Eh? Yep.**

**Anyway, I hope you like it and that it isn't too... I dunno. Weird? Oh, and please do review. Reviews are like chocolate covered strawberries during the setting of the sun on a particularly fine evening.**

**Ivy**

* * *

><p>With the excitement evident on his face, Harry bounded along the corridor, following Joanne to the Slytherin Common room. He had his book in his left hand and the box of dragons in his left, and the seventeen-year-old watched his activity with amusement.<p>

"Harry, come back! The entrance is here." In his eagerness, the boy had barrelled past the portrait, completely oblivious. He turned back to see Joanne shaking her head. "Come along, scamp," she said, giving the password to let them both in.

Harry had walked past the painting several times, but this was his first time inside the dungeon room. There were barely any students there, as the majority of them had already gone to class. The ones that were present, though, were sixth and seventh years, who looked up when they heard the two enter.

Everyone stared in amazement at the bespectacled boy, and gave Joanne an incredulous look.

"Professor Snape's ward, Harry Potter," she said, warning everyone in the room with a glare, not to ask questions.

"Hello," Harry said quietly, suddenly feeling rather shy. There were six people in the room, all a lot older than him, and they were gawking. He edged closer to Joanne and almost hid behind her. The girl, noticing this, grimaced and then smiled, taking the boy's hand.

"Come on, Harry, let's go sit over here." She pulled him along to one of the tables, where two girls were sitting. "Harry, this is Margaret and Serena Lewis."

"Are you sisters?" he asked, his curiosity overriding his shyness. They grinned.

"Twins," they said simultaneously. Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"Really? I've never met twins before! But… You don't look that much alike," he added with a small frown. Margaret had shoulder length brown hair, while Serena had almost black hair, short and curly. They both had brown eyes and similar shaped mouths, but they were hardly identical. They laughed.

"We're fraternal," Margaret said. Harry simply said "Oh", not actually knowing what the word meant. Serena elbowed her sister, and smiled at Harry.

"So, Snape is your guardian?" Harry nodded. "Poor thing," she said with sympathy.

"But he's nice!" Joanne snorted, and Harry looked up at her in befuddlement.

"Er, sit down Harry." Nodding, he hopped up on one of the chairs, and Joanne sat next to him. She chucked a few of her books on the table and then put her bag on the floor beside her. The other two girls were watching intently, interested to see how Joanne explained all of this to the little kid. "You see…" She silenced and glared at her friends who were trying to suppress their giggles. "Oh never mind." Harry frowned, but then shrugged, not sure what it was she was going to say anyway. "I have to finish an essay, but you go ahead and read or play, okay?" she directed at the boy, who nodded smilingly.

"Okay!" He opened the book, deciding to read _Babbitty Rabbitty_ once more.

* * *

><p>Snape heaved a deep sigh as the last fifth year exited his classroom and it was finally time for lunch. He hadn't seen Harry, Joanne or Henry at all until that point, and was getting rather itchy to find out how it had all gone. As much as he loathed admitting it, even to himself, he was feeling a flicker of concern for the boy. The Potter whelp. Merlin help him. The child seemed so accident prone and full of energy that he could hardly bear to look away for five seconds, let alone an entire morning. He was quite certain that his prefects were sensible and clever enough to handle the boy, but he couldn't help but think that the boy's supposed "cuteness" would lead the teenagers into allowing him to run wild. He was so much like his father…<p>

Stacking the homework assignments he'd received back on his desk, he proceeded out of the room and headed for the Slytherin Common room to fetch the Potter boy. He was still not convinced that he should be presented to the rest of the school, and so he would lunch with the boy in his quarters. Come next term and Potter would practically be a student at the school, Heaven help the staff.

He entered the Common room, and noticed with satisfaction that all chattering students quieted when they saw their Head. First years tended to catch on quickly, and now that they'd been at the school for a year, they were dead silent when Snape appeared. He ignored them and strode over to the couch were Potter was sitting, fiddling idly with one of the dragons, which kept nipping at his fingers. He reached the sofa, and tapped the top of the boy's head. Potter looked up, and smiled timidly at the stern man.

"Hi," he said, stuffing the dragon back into the box.

"Where's Miss White?"

"Oh, she went to lunch. Henry's here… Or he was. I think he's in his dorm." Snape frowned, and decided he'd deal with that later. He inclined his head.

"Come along, time for lunch." Harry jumped up immediately and followed the Professor. During this exchange, none of the students moved or said a word. Harry, feeling fantastically proud of himself for being so good all day, happily sat down to eat his lunch when they reached their destination. Snape took off his robe and hung it up, sitting down at the table. With a snap of his fingers, two plates full of food appeared in front of them, as well as a jug of pumpkin juice and a glass for Harry. He was just about to pick it up and poor himself some of the drink when his hand was grabbed in a vicelike grip and pulled away. Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

"I seem to recall that that didn't go particularly well last time," he commented, and poured Harry a glass himself. Harry blushed and thanked the man quietly. They ate the meal in silence, but it wasn't, surprisingly enough, an uncomfortable one.

The rest of the day Harry spent alternating between talking to Joanne and joking around with Henry. They already felt like his brother and sister and he fell asleep with a small smile on his lips.

* * *

><p>"Enter." It was ten to nine on a Thursday evening. It had been almost two weeks since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts and he'd already settled in nicely, gratefully forgetting his less than pleasant growing up at the Dursleys. Snape was still silently worried about exactly what had gone on there, but because the boy showed no physical sign of mistreatment, and barely any mental ones, he decided to let the matter die, for the time being.<p>

The professor had asked his two Prefects to come to his office just before nine, to talk to them regarding arrangements when it came to their babysitting Harry. Starting on Monday, they would both be busy with sitting their final exams, and would not have time to keep their eyes on the energetic boy all the time.

Joanne and Henry walked inside. They both knew why they'd been called, but it was never particularly comforting to walk into their Head's office. The majority of the time that students found themselves there it was because of some misdemeanour or other.

"Good evening Mr Wolff, Miss White," he greeted them, scratching down an _Acceptable_ on one of his fourth-year-essays and then putting the quill down.

"Good evening, sir," they both answered and stood in front of his desk, not knowing quite where to look. During the past weeks they'd had a different relationship towards the professor. Because they were looking after his ward, he'd been talking more to them than he would normally. Both the teens had discovered that underneath his sneering and snapping at the child, he seemed to care. Genuinely. They'd both shared smug looks about it, but not been reckless enough to mention anything aloud.

The reason that Snape had called them at such a late hour was because he wanted Harry to be asleep. He doubted the boy was sleeping at the moment, but he was at least in bed and wouldn't dare to leave his room. He'd tried that a week earlier and not liked the results.

"The reason for my summoning you is simple: I want to thank you for having looked after Potter thus far. I know you now have a lot of studying to do, and exams to get through, so you will no longer have to watch him during the days. It has been an immense help, and I truly appreciate it." It felt odd to be thanking students, but these were two of his oldest snakes. They were both good students and had, in fact, been very decent about the whole thing. _Merlin_ knew that he would never have willingly babysat an eight-year-old boy at the age of seventeen.

"Thanks, sir," Henry said brightly. "He's a nice kid."

"Hmm," was Severus' noncommittal reply.

"Yes, thank you," Joanne put in. "We'll miss him."

"Sure," Henry nodded.

"Yes, I'm sure he will be quite distressed to see you leave," Snape mused, wondering what on Earth he would do with the boy come the last day of school for his teen friends. "On a different note. Do you feel well prepared for the exams? I trust you have been studying hard?" He levelled them with a firm gaze. They both nodded.

"Yes, sir, I am feeling rather confident," Joanne replied seriously.

"So am I," Henry nodded in agreement. "It feels as though I know every nook and cranny of that library now. I'm turning into a Ravenclaw…" Snape allowed himself a small smirk.

"Being studious is not strictly a Ravenclaw trait, Mr Wolff," Snape said with a raised eyebrow. Henry cleared his throat.

"No, sir, I know."

"Very well. I will see you in class tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. Good night, sir," they both responded and headed for the door. Before they could exit, though, Snape said:

"Also, I will be putting up the times for your individual talks tomorrow." All seventh year students had individual talks with their Head of House at some point during the exam weeks, simply to bring up once again what the students wished to do after Hogwarts and if they thought they could get there. This was also the time when NEWT students would ask for recommendations. Snape had so far never written a recommendation, as none of his students had had the skill or will to become a Potions Master.

"Right," Henry said, quickly adding "Sir" when Snape shot him a stern look.

"Good evening," he said decisively, and the students hurried out and closed the door behind them. It was with a heavy heart that Snape once again picked up his quill to continue marking the essays. It was obvious that he would not have a lot of students studying Potions for their OWLs. It didn't matter, really. It was nicer with a smaller group of students, and he found it easier to work in such an environment. In their fifth year, students had also chosen whether or not to continue with the subject, and generally applied themselves. It was a great relief when he wouldn't have to hover to make sure they didn't blow anything up. The nicest classes were, of course, by far, the NEWT students. They were only about seven or eight in each group, and all worked with concentration and in silence. Absolute heaven.

The previous weekend he had spoken to some of his colleagues about tutoring Harry. Flitwick had happily agreed to help him with some basic charms work, and Sprout had assured him that she would help as much as she possibly could. Naturally, the Head of Gryffindor Professor McGonagall had overheard the conversation, and given the younger Potions Master quite an uncomfortable time about whether or not Harry would be trying Transfiguration.

"What do you mean, it is _unnecessary_?" she had asked sharply, staring at the younger man.

"Minerva, please," Snape drawled. "He is eight years old. Transfiguration is far too complicated for such a young child."

"And you are telling me that Potions is simpler?" she fired back. "I seem to remember a certain professor complaining about how dim the first years are on the subject."

"Which is precisely why I intend to teach him something before he joins my class," Snape ground out.

"I see no reason why the boy can't at least read up on my subject," she said, pursing her lips in her very own way.

"We are talking about a boy who can barely sit still for ten minutes, Minerva. Reading is not one of his strong points. Besides, I can hardly have him studying all summer, even if I wish I could."

The conversation had been a heated one indeed, but McGonagall had finally relented, though with the assurance that she would be visiting often to see Harry.

In three weeks, the school term would be over and the students would all go home. Normally, Snape stayed at Hogwarts during the summer, so as to have some company (not that he enjoyed company), but this year he would bring the child back to his house. Things had been going rather well, and the Headmaster had been dropping hints about maybe trying to go through with a full adoption sooner than the 31st of July. Snape was a tad suspicious about this. Usually, if the Headmaster had made up his mind about something, that was that and nothing you did would make him change his mind.

Soon after his father's death, Severus had sold the small house in Spinner's End. Despite it being closer to Lily's childhood home. He simply couldn't bear the place, and the thought of those parks and playgrounds without the little redheaded witch made him ache.  
>With his work at the famed school, and as a renowned Potions Master, he had earned a sufficient amount of money and bought himself a large town house in London. It was hidden to all Muggles and protected by pretty much everything apart from the Fidelius. Dumbledore had agreed that it would be better for the boy to be away from Hogwarts during the summer, and to settle in properly with Severus as his guardian. Though the Headmaster had used the word "father", to which Severus had cringed.<p>

After having finished work on the essays, he decided to leave the office and head back to his quarters. Partly because he was tired and partly because he was wary of leaving Harry alone. Not out of concern, of course. He was more worried that the brat would get up and cause some havoc or other in his absence. With quick movements he placed all the rolls of parchments in neat stacks, put his quill away and screwed the lid on his bottle of ink before dimming the room and heading for his small living room.

A fire was crackling in the small fireplace, giving the room a soft light. He saw light spilling out into the corridor from under Harry's bedroom door and smirked a bit. His feet quiet on the floor, he made his way to the door and grabbed the handle. With a yank it was pulled open, and the small boy sitting on the bed jumped high in surprise.

"Mr Potter," Snape said, eyeing the child sternly. "It is twenty to ten. Oughtn't you be sleeping by now? Or at least have turned off the light?" Harry blushed and closed the book he had open in his knee, plopping it on the bedside table.

"I was just reading…" he mumbled.

"Have you even _tried_ to sleep?" Snape demanded. He let the boy read after he'd gone to bed, for a bit, but over an hour after his bedtime? Not a chance.

"Well…" He shifted at the stern flash of his guardian's eyes. "No, sir," he murmured despondently, carefully crawling under the covers and lying down.

"Your bedtime is at eight-thirty for a reason," Snape said sharply. He stalked over to the bed and took the glasses off the child's face, folding them and placing them on the table. "You will be spending tomorrow with Professor Dumbledore," Snape told him, feeling he might as well spill the information now, as the boy was awake. Unfortunately, the whelp looked far too excited.

"Really? For real? With Dumbledore, all day?"

"_Professor_ Dumbledore," Snape corrected firmly. "And yes, 'for real'," he added. "You will do well to behave yourself." Harry pouted.

"I always behave myself." Snape snorted.

"I mean it. Any misbehaving and you will spend the weekend in a very uncomfortable disposition. Now go to sleep," he said, walking to the door and turning off the lights.

"Yeah, okay… Good night."

"Good night, Potter." He walked out and left the door half open, as had been made the routine. When he re-entered the living room, he almost fell over with surprise. It quite annoyed him, too. Normally, he always had his defences up, and not having noticed Dumbledore's arrival made him extremely irritated.

"Headmaster," he bit out, and Albus twinkled at him from where he was sitting on the couch.

"Severus my boy. I am sorry to have startled you." Snape snorted and walked over to sit in his chair. "Is Harry all right?"

"Perfectly. Although he should be sleeping now, and he knows it." Just remembering, Severus drew out his hand and cast a silencing charm around them. "I'd rather not have him hearing us," he said, stowing his wand away again.

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't eavesdrop," Dumbledore said merrily.

"What can I do for you, Albus?" Snape asked, not even dignifying the Headmaster's comment with a response.

"Oh, nothing, my boy. I simply thought would pay you a visit. We haven't spoken for a while." Snape had consciously avoided the Headmaster's presence for the past week or so, wanting to get used to life as the Boy Who Lived To Torment's guardian, without the wise old wizard's input.

"Indeed we haven't," he replied simply, folding his hands in his lap.

"Would you mind if I got us some tea?"

"Not at all," Snape agreed, knowing that arguing was futile and that the Headmaster would eventually have his tea anyway. The Headmaster smiled and an elf popped in instantly, leaving a tray with tea, two cups, cream and sugar before bowing smilingly and popping back to the kitchen.

"Would you care for a cup?" Snape nodded and the Headmaster settled some tea for the both of them. "I was thinking, earlier today, about our plans of adoption," the Headmaster began casually, sipping his tea as he leaned back into the soft cushions on the couch.

"Yes?" Snape urged him on, reluctantly feeling some curiosity at this turn of events. Lately, Albus had dismissed all talk on the matter, saying merely that they would discuss it come Harry's ninth birthday, seeming to have forgotten that he'd been touching on the subject of going through with the adoption earlier than that.

"You seem to be getting along well," Dumbledore said instead.

"Indeed," replied Severus with raised eyebrows.

"Harry seems to like and respect you." Snape snorted at "respect", but didn't say anything. "And I think you really care for the boy," he continued. Of course, Snape knew not what to answer to this. He couldn't say no, because he wouldn't deny it, but agreeing would mean that Dumbledore was right. He gave a noncommittal nod. "Maybe…" He paused, almost frowning. "Maybe we ought to speed the process up." Snape managed, barely, to keep himself composed, but discretely put his tea cup down as to not drop it in his lap by the surprise of hearing Albus speak of in such a straight forward manner.

"Really? What has brought on this need for haste then?" he enquired, genuinely interested in why Albus Dumbledore, of all people, would have changed his mind. He had been so set on waiting earlier that Snape had simply let the matter drop. He was also of the opinion that sooner was better than later. He wanted the stability of being the permanent guardian of the child. The possible release of Sirius Black was also presenting a problem, and he couldn't deny that he felt some degree of smugness about the whole thing. What would the mutt think, being released from prison and unable to fulfil his duties as the brat's godfather?

"We live in uncertain times, Severus," Dumbledore said solemnly, looking into his sugary tea. "Harry seems comfortable with you still, and you have established a routine. I see no reason why we shouldn't make it official. It will, of course, be known in the press soon." Snape groaned silently. Brilliant. Rita Skeeter on his neck, just what he needed. The woman was one of the top reporters for the Daily Prophet, and she was always digging about where she had no right or reason to. A complete menace, in short.

"You already know my view on the matter," Snape said placidly.

"I have owled the Ministry already," Dumbledore continued. "It might present a few obstacles, what with Sirius' upcoming trial, but nothing we can't overcome."

"About that… The fact that Black is Potter's Godfather will surely cause immense havoc," Severus said. "Will it be possible at all for me to gain… custody of the child? You know the Ministry doesn't think much of me," he added with a sneer.

"It has its perks, being me," Dumbledore said with slight amusement, finishing his cup of tea. "It might take longer than it would have if Sirius wasn't about to be released, but it won't make it impossible."

"And Black? It will, of course, take time before they release him, but what will he say once he realises what fate has befallen his precious godson?"

"Sirius is an impulsive man," Dumbledore said quietly. "Impulsive, but kind and righteous. He will, naturally, be quite unhappy about the whole thing to begin with. I am certain, though, in time, he will come to terms with the situation and accept it as what is best for Harry." Snape snorted, once again deciding it was better to keep silent than give the Headmaster an answer he would not like. "I am expecting the Minister for a meeting on Saturday, if she can make it," Dumbledore said, knowing full well that there was nothing that would prevent the Minister to drop by. "I would like you to join us." Snape suppressed a groan. The Minister, Millicent Bagnold, was the most uptight person he had ever had the misfortune to meet. A former Ravenclaw, she took great pride in her supposed wit, and would never answer a question when it was presented, but tell you she'd "get back to you". _Spoken like a true politician_, Snape thought grimly.

"Certainly, Headmaster," he answered instead, he, too, finishing his tea.

"Well, I have intruded long enough," Albus smiled, rising. Snape stood, too. "Good night, Severus," he said, chucking some Floo powder into the flames.

"Headmaster," Snape nodded as the man stepped into the flames and disappeared back to his office. Feeling absolutely knackered, Snape banished the tea pot and cups and proceeded to his bedroom, feeling immense relief that tomorrow was Friday and then he would finally be free from the students for two days. Somewhat anyway.


	9. Lemon drops and teardrops

**A/N: Hello lovelies! Sorry it has been so long, and double apologies for it being so short. It needed to end there, you know? Well obviously you don't know, but you will, by the end of the chapter... Anyway, I can tell you now that I am already writing on chapter 10 and should have it up in no more than a week. Yep. Actually, I promise that. So I give you permission to hex me if there is nothing new in exactly one week from now.**

**Also, I would just like to tell all of you wonderful people that I have a new story. Yes... Don't kill me, please. If you're interested in Sirius-adopts-Harry stories, then check it out. If you do, I hope I haven't disappointed anyone with it so far ((:**

**Enjoy, and pleeeeeeease review!**

**Ivy**

* * *

><p>Harry stared up at the large door that would lead him into the Headmaster's office. He had only been in the room once before, on his very first day at Hogwarts, and found that he was quite intimidated by its vast form. Dumbledore himself seemed like a nice man, even though Snape didn't seem too keen on him. Harry glanced back and saw the man in question roll his eyes.<p>

"Come on, Potter, I haven't got all day," he said impatiently, reaching over Harry's head to knock on the door. It instantly swung open, and they saw the Headmaster sitting behind his desk, smiling brightly as they entered.

"Ah, Harry, Severus. How are you this splendid morning?"

"Fine, sir," Harry answered happily, quite eager now. He wanted Snape to leave so that he could stop having to be so polite. Well, he'd have to be polite anyway, lest Snape wear him out, but at least it wouldn't be as constricting.

"I have a class I must get to," Snape said, avoiding the question. "You behave yourself," he said, pointing down at Harry. "Good day," he nodded, and with one last warning glance at his ward he swept out of the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

"Well, Harry. I must say, I have long been looking forward to the day when I would be able to spend some time with you," Dumbledore said cheerfully, leaving the seat behind his desk and gesturing for Harry to sit down by the fireplace. "How are you finding Hogwarts so far then, dear boy?" he enquired, handing the boy a lemon drop which Harry gladly popped into his mouth.

"'Tis brilliant," he said around the sweet, smiling shyly at the Headmaster. "I love everything 'bout 't," he added, having some trouble speaking properly with the treat in his mouth. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Yes, it is rather… enchanting, is it not," he said, his eyes twinkling at his ironic choice of words. "Well, there are a number of things with which we could entertain ourselves today. What would you prefer?" Harry stared at the old man. He got to choose what to do? Surely not. Things had been a hundred times better with Snape than with the Dursleys, but the man had a schedule for him. Harry didn't mind, but this was completely out of the ordinary.

"Sir?" he asked timidly, not sure what else to do.

"What would you like to do?" Dumbledore repeated kindly. "There a variety of games with which we could occupy ourselves. Chess, Exploding Snap, Gobbstones to name a few of the more popular games here at Hogwarts." Harry stared in bewilderment at the older man who was casually listing all manners of fun they could have. Was he allowed? Wouldn't Snape be angry?

"How do you play Exploding Snap?" he asked shyly. Dumbledore clapped his hands together and began rummaging about for a pack of cards.

"Excellent choice! It is quite simple, my dear boy. We will play the classic version." He brought the cards out triumphantly. "Now, the object of the game is to find pairs…"

* * *

><p>"Unless you would like spending your remaining three years at this school in detention, Mr Williams, I suggest you refrain from brandishing your wand and casting spells you know nothing of," Snape said icily to the fidgeting Gryffindor in front of him. "Dismissed." The student quickly gathered his things and ran out of the classroom, catching up with his friends. Snape snorted irritably and straightened his robes jerkily. <em>Detestable, impudent, childish lions<em>, he thought grimly, gathering the essays he would need to mark in his arms before sweeping out of the dungeon classroom, the door banging shut after him. The boy in question had been performing spells at random while the other students had been cleaning up after themselves. Snape, not being a fan of spell casting in his classroom, had immediately swept over to the boy, who instantly ceased his playing to stare up with frightened eyes at his irate professor.

Now that the day's classes were all finished, he found the time to feel slightly worried about what Potter might've done to the Headmaster during the day. He'd seen them during lunch; Harry had been sitting at the old wizard's side, laughing merrily at some story the Headmaster was telling. He'd been rather uncertain about leaving the boy with Dumbledore, not knowing what ideas he might feed into the small head.

Entering his quarters and laying all his things neatly on the desk, he hastily swept out of the room again and strode decisively towards the Headmaster's office. Several students scampered out of his way, and he was pleased to notice that even the sixths years averted their gazes and sped up the tiniest bit at the sight of him. Everything was well in that aspect.

Upon reaching the gargoyle guarding the entrance, Snape stopped dead in his tracks. The doorway was just sealing itself and Potter was wandering, seemingly aimlessly, down the left corridor.

"Just where do you think you are going?" Harry spun around in astonishment, and blushed slightly at seeing his dour guardian. He stared at Snape's midsection and began wringing his hands.

"Nowhere," he replied quietly. "I was just going to… Find you."

"Why are you not with the Headmaster?" Snape enquired further, narrowing his eyes as he approached the fidgeting child.

"He said I could go," Harry replied honestly, his green eyes wide with apprehension as he was forced to tilt his head backwards to meet Severus' eyes.

"Did he now? What were his exact words, young man?" Fidgeting. "Answer me."

"That I should go down and wait because you were almost here," he replied in a mumble, his cheeks colouring anew.

"Indeed," Snape said placidly.

"Sorry," Harry murmured, scratching behind his ear. Snape sighed and shook his head.

"Come along." Harry was slightly surprised not to hear more about it, but didn't have time to ponder it, as he had to hurry up to keep up with Snape's long strides. There were still students out and about, but most of them were used to Harry's presence by now. The Slytherins nodded to their Head of House, or greeted him with a quiet "Good evening, sir", while all other students averted their eyes and walked along the walls to avoid the stern Potions Master. Severus didn't mind: in fact, it was all just how he liked it.

"Professor?" Harry piped up after a while.

"Potter," Snape replied, not turning as they started down the stairs to the dungeons.

"Are you really going to adopt me?" Snape halted. Not much in the world would render him completely lost for words, but this was one such rare occasion. He turned slowly and pinned the boy with his dark eyes. Harry stared up at him, the innocence in his young eyes speering Snape.

"What would possess you to ask such a question?" he asked, attempting to sound indifferent. Harry shrugged. "Verbal answers, young man, you know this," Snape growled, glad for something normal to admonish the child for.

"Sorry, sir," the child murmured. "I don't know. I just… wondered." Nostrils flaring, Severus regarded the boy for a moment longer before continuing the last way to his quarters and ushering Harry inside.

"Sit," he said, nodding towards the couch. Harry curled up in his normal corner, watching his guardian closely as he flitted about the room, lighting candles and summoning tea. Once Severus had shrugged off his robes, clad in black dress trousers and a black shirt, he sat down in his armchair and regarded the boy closely.

"Potter… Harry…" The bot snapped his head up at the mentioning of his given name, gawking at the professor. "How are you?" Still staring disbelievingly at Snape, Harry began nibbling the corner of his lip.

"All right…" he answered, all of a sudden feeling very mellow.

"I sincerely hope you are not lying to me," the Potions Master said placidly as a house elf appeared and poured them a cup each of the steaming liquid.

"No, sir, I'm not," Harry replied honestly. Snape snorted.

"Very well. Now tell me why you are asking such questions."

"I _told_ you, I was just wondering…"

"I don't care for your tone," Severus interjected, narrowing his eyes to stern slits. Harry fidgeted, as he seemed to be doing a lot, and stared at the flames roaring in the hearth.

"Sorry," he muttered. "But, professor, are you…?" Snape didn't know what Dumbledore had said to the boy, and it had been a while since he had brought it up with the boy himself.

"Potter, you must understand that this is a tricky situation. You have no conception of the uproar it will cause if I formally adopt you."

"Uproar?"

"You will most likely never fully grasp what the people of Britain think of you," Snape said in a quiet voice, almost as though he was speaking to himself.

"Sir?"

"Never mind," the man said gruffly, sipping his tea. "The point is… The point is that there are uncertainties-"

"Nothing's going to change, is it?" Harry asked breathlessly, forgetting his manners. "I'll be sent back…"

"Potter…"

"You're all the same," Harry cried, his eyes filling with tears, to his complete mortification. "All grown-ups…"

"Potter!"

"No! Don't send me back, please!"

"_Harry_!" Tears running down his cheeks, Harry realised he was standing up. His bottom lip wobbled, and he felt frightfully embarrassed over having acted like the child he truly was. "Calm yourself this instant. I will not have you fall ill due to a childish tantrum, do you understand me?" Harry nodded, and for once, Snape let it be. "No one is sending you back to your relatives. Now _sit back down_." The force of the command had Harry sitting in a split second, almost upsetting his teacup. Snape steadied it with two fingers as Harry averted his eyes.

"Sorry," he muttered again, swiping his hand at his nose and as discreetly as possible wiped the traces of tears off his face.

"If you will let me finish this time, then maybe we can get through this discussion without any further outbursts, hmm?" Harry merely blushed. "Very well. Despite these problems… Yes, Po-… Harry. Unless you have any objections, I will adopt you." Harry lifted his head slowly and allowed himself to look at Snape. The man met his gaze firmly, the tea forgotten.

"Promise?" Harry squeaked. A moment's silence followed, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

"You have my word."

* * *

><p>Snape massaged his temples slowly, closing his eyes and letting the heat of the fire wash over him, the remaining burn of the Firewhiskey singeing his throat. It was just before ten, and Harry had been in bed for over an hour, leaving Severus alone with his whiskey and the fire. He very rarely drank the burning stuff, but felt like he desperately needed it now. Potter had been in an odd mood all evening, making Severus snap after a while and sending the boy to bed with stern voice. The child hadn't even complained, just nodded mutely and stalked off to the bathroom. As much as Severus despised the boy's otherwise constant chattering, his silence was unnerving, more so than he would care to admit.<p>

Potter's sudden outburst about the adoption had surprised him, truly, and he was irritated with having to talk to the boy about it. He'd wanted to keep it as quiet as possible, and really only ever brought it up with the Headmaster. The impending trial of Black was another complication, and Severus was still baffled, not to mention bewildered, by the fact that Albus was actually going to allow him, Snape, to adopt the child, and not wait for the beloved godfather. What could possibly have induced the man to make such a decision? Surely one of the wonderful Marauders would be the ideal option as guardian for the Boy Who Lived To Constantly Irritate Everyone?

Muttering an oath, he banished the bottle of Firewhiskey back to the small cupboard and cast a silent cleaning spell on the tumbler, rising from his armchair to extinguish the fire. Unusually enough, he decided to go to bed. There wasn't any work to be done for the moment, and his blasted headache was getting worse. No, a glass of water, a headache relieving potion and then to bed felt like the best plan.

As he turned to walk to his bedroom, he spotted light spilling out of the small bedroom, Frowning, he strode over there and unceremoniously opened the door. The Potter boy was sitting on his covers, the light shining softly, casting shadows up the walls. He had a photo in his hands, and Severus heard the unmistakable sound of sniffling. Pursing his lips he walked up to the boy and, rather cautiously, sat down on the edge of his bed. Harry made no reaction at the professor's sitting so closely to him, but brusquely swiped the tears out of his face and put the photograph carefully to one side. Severus recognised it as one he had had on his desk previously, one of Lily. He decided, however, not to ask how the boy had got it. Instead, though it felt as strange as one could possibly imagine, he hauled the boy over to him, settled him by his side, and placed an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," the boy sniffled. Severus said nothing for a moment, but stared at the opposite wall, his arm curving naturally around the slight, shaking frame. "She-she's g-gone…" he whispered, and Severus realised that the boy had never fully grieved his parents. Living with his relatives, he had been so constricted, so bound by their foul beliefs. Their cruel treatment of the boy who'd lost his family before he even got to know them had probably scarred the child more than was first discernible. Now, when he finally had a living connection to his parents, it was most likely very difficult to think passively about his lost parents.

"I know," Severus said quietly.

"I-I-I…"

"Shush," he said quietly, rubbing his hand up and down, thoroughly uncomfortable to comfort a child grieving his dead parents, especially since Severus had not quite come to terms with Lily's death himself.

When Harry broke into gut-wrenching sobs, Severus did what felt natural, what his own father had done so many years ago, when Severus had lost his grandmother: he lifted the boy by his armpits and placed him in his lap, wrapping his arms around him, rocking him back and forth, and letting the silence speak volumes.


	10. Visitors

**A/N: I got this up a bit quicker than I thought I would. But that's positive, right? ((:**

**I hope you all had a nice Halloween, with loads of treats and spooky stuff. I didn't. Mine was spent drinking tea and writing. Then again, I'm a rather quiet soul, not a fan of all the partying stuff... Do I sound 458727348 years old? Haha...**

**Oh, and before anyone comments on it; yes, I did write rubber. For all you Americans it would be an eraser, haha! It's the English-I-mean-British way. ;)**

**Ivy**

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><p>"Potter, get in here please." Harry sighed and put <em>Hogwarts: A History<em> down on his bedside table. He'd been reading for a while, content with staying in his room with the book. He found it fantastically interesting, especially since it gave him a real insight in the school where he now lived.

He got up from his bed and obediently made his way to the living room, where Snape was sitting by his desk. Though it had now been three days since that night, Harry still felt rather nervous and embarrassed about looking Snape in the eye. The man had held him for over an hour until eventually; the child fell asleep in the Potions Master's arms.

Severus looked up from the letter he was penning as Harry approached.

"Sir?" Harry said timidly when Severus remained quiet, gazing thoughtfully at him.

"Have a seat," Snape nodded towards a chair that had appeared from nowhere behind the boy. Harry sat cautiously, wondering what was going on. Snape capped his ink bottle slowly and blew briefly on the letter. "Now that you no longer stay with your… relatives, you will not be able to attend your Muggle school." Harry tried not to look too happy about this. "However, what you probably are not aware of is that as a wizard child, you would normally have been educated in the simpler forms of magic since before you could speak your own name." Harry did not know this, but in a way, he supposed it was obvious.

"Oh," was all he said in the short span of silence that followed.

"Before you come to Hogwarts, you, too, will need to further your Muggle education as well as begin you magical training."

"I get to use magic?" Harry asked in an excited voice.

"Not use it, no. Not yet, at least." Harry slumped and looked decidedly miserable.

"Then what's the use in it?"

"Magical theory is a very important aspect of learning magic, young man," Snape said sternly at the boy's dejected expression. "Once I feel you are mature enough then maybe we can get you a wand and you can start-"

"I'll get my own wand?"

"Do not interrupt, Potter," Snape growled. "And yes, of course you get a wand. How else are you supposed to perform magic, you foolish child?" Harry shrugged, twisting his finger into the fabric of his t-shirt. "If you will let me get to the point…" He hesitated for a moment to make sure the boy kept silent, and then continued when Harry just bit his lower lip and dangled his legs. "All of this means that you will receive a rather… unusual mix. You will be taught some mathematics, History and English, as well as basic magic, such as Charms, Potions, and some Defence." Harry had never been particularly fond of school. Then again, that was mostly due to the fact that he had acted as Dudley's punch bag, and suffered being tormented by all other kids, because Dudley had spread all kinds of strange and hurtful rumours. No, he couldn't say he was looking forward to the normal subjects (Muggle, was it?). The magic ones on the other hand… Had Harry had things his way, they would have started immediately, right then and there. Of course, Professor Snape had everything planned out already.

"You will begin your classes tomorrow," he continued. "We will alternate your subjects, so that you have two each day, one Muggle and one magical. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded rather eagerly.

"You will have classes on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, and then studying on Mondays and Tuesdays." Harry nodded, wondering if he should feel upset about having to do so much work during the summer holidays. In all honesty, it didn't bother him. At least not yet. Maybe things would change once he had homework to do…

"Professor?"

"Hm?"

"Who will teach me?" he asked.

"Professor Flitwick will teach Charms, and I will teach Potions and simple Defence theory."

"And… And the other subjects?" Harry asked, not yet comfortable with referring to them as "Muggle".

"Professor Charity Burbage," he replied. Harry didn't recall having met her, which Snape soon explained. "We didn't visit her earlier, as she was in London, meeting her mother. She's back now."

"Oh."

"She normally teaches Muggle Studies, and thus has sufficient knowledge on the subjects you will need to take for a while." Harry merely nodded, wishing he didn't have to study the "Muggle" subjects anymore. "So, this means you have Potions and mathematics on Wednesdays, Charms and English on Thursdays and Defence and History on Fridays."

"All right," Harry said quietly, nibbling his lip thoughtfully. Severus sighed irritably, leaning forward on the desk.

"What is it, Potter? I can see something is troubling your naïve mind, so spit it out."

"Why do I have to take Mu-Muggle subjects?" he asked timidly, stumbling on the word _Muggle_.

"Because, Potter, you will otherwise be missing out on two years of education. It will prove useful for you to learn some more of the basics before you are enrolled here at Hogwarts."

"But, sir, what if I don't get accepted here?" Harry asked, his worry shining through.

"Potter, you are a wizard, of course you will be enrolled here," Severus retorted, his voice curt.

"Are all wizards invited to Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"In Britain, yes. But there are parents who choose to educate their children themselves, perhaps if they cannot afford the tuition fees. Others choose to send their sons and daughters to other schools."

"There are other schools?" the boy exclaimed. Snape snorted.

"Of course there are, silly child. Hogwarts only houses around 350 students, hardly big enough for the entire wizarding population."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh," Snape said sarcastically. He scooted his chair back and stood up, and Harry had to tilt his head backwards to keep looking at the professor's face. "I need to pick up some potions ingredients in Hogsmeade," he announced. "Come along."

"I get to come with you?" Harry exclaimed, standing up in his excitement. Previously when Snape had needed to leave the castle, Harry had been assigned one babysitter or another.

"Yes. I don't think I dare leave you with anyone," Snape said tersely. "Go and put your shoes on." Harry looked down at his sock-clad shoes, as if surprised to not see his trainers there. "Hurry up, Potter," Severus snapped, and Harry jumped off the chair and hurried to his room where his trainers lay haphazardly on the carpet. He pulled them on and laced them as quickly as his small hands could manage.

"Potter! Get your scrawny backside out here!" Harry almost smiled as he hurried back out.

* * *

><p>Harry excitedly followed Professor Snape into the dungeon classroom. Snape had first considered holding the classes in his quarters, but felt he ought to keep the boy's school time and his free time apart. They were going to start studying some Potions and Harry felt like he would burst with anticipation. It would be the first time he truly learned something about any other form of magic, and he'd always loved to see Joanne and Henry write their essays, flicking through their thick books. He'd basically turned into a different person since he left the Dursleys, interested in books and looking forward to studying.<p>

"Take a seat, Potter," Snape instructed, nodding towards a desk that had been pulled aside and placed in front of a smaller blackboard. Harry hurriedly hopped onto the chair, wriggling himself as far back as he could and leaning on the backrest. "Potions are a very complex branch of magic, and it will be awhile before you will be able to make any yourself. For one thing, you need a wand." Harry nodded attentively, making Snape feel slightly uncomfortable. The only students who ever looked this interested were his NEWTs, and since Harry mostly resembled a first year, it was all a very unusual situation. "A lot of the most advanced spells need potions to complement or aid them, but the potions in themselves are generally just as advanced and complicated, if not more so. The most powerful and skilled wizards in the world are often trained Potions Masters."

"Is Professor Dumbledore a Potions Master?" Harry asked, sitting on his hands.

"Not a qualified one, no," Snape replied. "He does of course have adequate knowledge of the fine magic, but has always chosen to pursue… different areas to study."

"Oh."

"Now then, Mr Potter. What would you say potions might be used for?" Harry, startled at already being asked questions, gawked at the professor, his mouth hanging open. "Close your mouth, child, you look like a gargoyle." Harry closed his mouth and nibbled his lip. "_Well_? I asked you a question."

"Erm… Maybe… As medicine?" Harry asked cautiously. Snape gave a curt nod.

"There are a number of potions that are used as remedies for different diseases and maladies, yes." Harry, thrilled at being right, beamed.

"What else are they used for?" he asked, bouncing up and down in his seat.

"I refuse to proceed with you fidgeting like a toddler," Snape said sharply. The boy rather reluctantly stilled and looked expectantly at the professor. "Medical potions are among the most used. There are also a wide range of poisons and their antidotes, balms, salves, ointments, tinctures, love potions and a dreadfully large amount of joke potions," he added tersely.

"Really? What do they do?" Harry asked, trying very hard not to recommence his bouncing.

"It would take far too long to list all of them. You will discover them sooner or later…"

"Oh," Harry said, realising he was perhaps using that particular word a bit too often. Snape seemed to have noticed too, as he frowned disapprovingly at the child. Harry grimaced apologetically.

"To start with, we will talk a bit about ingredients used in potions. Now, you already know that some ingredients require more care and attention. Some plants also need to be harvested at a certain time of day or year. Why is this?" Harry had bombarded Snape with questions when they'd been at the apothecary, and now found that thanks to his inquisitiveness he actually might be able to answer some of the questions the professor posed.

"It depends on the type of potion, doesn't it?" he asked, feeling only a tad uncertain. "'Cause some plants can gain prot-properties from the weather, yeah?"

"Just so," Snape nodded, and Harry felt his chest swell with pride. He realised he was longing dreadfully for the day when he would become a Hogwarts student and participate in real classes.

* * *

><p>His hand poised over the dark wood, Harry hesitated. This would be the first time he met Charity Burbage, and his first maths class. Or <em>mathematics<em>, as Professor Snape said. He giggled slightly, but sobered up when he remembered Snape's threat: _Behave, or get well acquainted with my hand. Understood?_ He shuddered a bit and shook his head. No, he would be polite and attentive for Professor Burbage. Taking a deep, bracing breath, he knocked thrice on the door. He heard some shuffling behind it before the slab of wood creaked open and framed a woman of perhaps thirty, thirty five years, with dusty blonde hair and a smile on her lips.

"Well hello, Harry," she said, as though they'd always known each other.

"Hello," he replied shyly as she stepped aside and waved him inside. They were in a rather small classroom, with only three windows along one wall.

"Sorry about the size," she said with a wink. "Not that many students study Muggle studies, I'm afraid," she added with a sincere laugh before holding out her hand for Harry to shake. "We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Professor Charity Burbage, and I teach Muggle Studies here at Hogwarts. Though I daresay I might not for much longer…" She hesitated, before shaking her head and smiling again. "Come in, come in." He walked slowly after her, and sat down by the offered desk. She rounded it and leaned on the teacher's desk, folding her arms as she smiled down at him. "Well, Mr Potter," she began in a kind voice. "To begin with, I will need to know what you have done so far, in maths," she continued. "I would have asked you earlier, but we've all been a bit busy, have we not?" Harry smiled at her. _She seems nice,_ he thought; glad he wasn't stuck with some wizening old witch for the remainder of his summer. And perhaps beyond that… Snape hadn't said.

"Well," he said, scrunching his face up as he attempted to remember. He didn't generally pay much attention in school, but got by all right all the same. "A bit of this and that," he said sheepishly. She grinned.

"Did you start multiplying and dividing?" she asked helpfully, and Harry nodded in relief.

"Yes ma'am, a bit."

"Well, that's a start. Let's begin there today then." She handed him a pencil, a rubber and a ruler before turning to the black board. "We'll do some problems on the board, and solve them together, all right?" He nodded and smiled in response as she began dragging the white chalk along the board, writing down a few simple multiplication problems. "We'll have you beat all the Muggle kids within the months," she said cheerfully, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

><p>Saturday was suddenly upon Harry, and he thought he would genuinely miss not having any classes for the next four days. It had all been very interesting, even though he'd been set homework for Potions, Charms, maths and English. He'd decided not to do any of it today, though, as Snape had said they would be having company.<p>

"Who is it?" Harry asked as he sat on the edge of his chair during breakfast. They'd never had anyone but Professor Dumbledore visit them before, and Harry was sure it wouldn't be him today. Thing was, Snape wasn't the kind of person who particularly enjoyed having people over. In fact, Harry was under the impression that Professor Snape was a bit edgy about this visit as well, though he didn't dare ask any details.

"No one you know," Snape said dismissively. Harry didn't point out that that much was obvious: all people he knew that Snape knew were teachers at the school; hardly people Snape would go berserk about. Okay, he wasn't going berserk. He was far too placid a man to do so, but he was certainly different from the usual Snape. Even more curt and snappish, Harry thought.

"Well, obviously…" Harry said, picking his bread roll.

"Young man, you will do _well_ to keep that attitude at bay," Snape said in his low, silky voice. Harry blushed and nodded, avoiding eye-contact. As if by magic, the Floo suddenly roared to life, and Harry jumped in his seat, spinning to watch the hearth. Snape was already up and greeting whoever had stepped through, and Harry craned his neck to get a good look at the visitor. Or visitors, is proved. Standing on the rug was a tall wizard with long, blonde hair. He was wearing a long, velvet cloak and held a gleaming cane in his hand. He had a snooty air about him, and Harry felt instantly frightened. Behind him, though, was a boy. He looked a little older than Harry himself, with grey eyes, pale skin and the same blonde hair as his father. The boy caught sight of Harry and his eyes widened. He tugged the man's cloak – his father, Harry was certain – and then man turned and irritably stared down at him.

"Father, look, it's Harry Potter," Harry heard the boy whisper. He frowned a bit, annoyed at the other boy's manners, but quickly felt sorry for him when his father seemed to admonish him in a low, rapt voice. The boy nodded as a pink blush spread across his aristocratic cheeks.

"Potter, come and say hello to Mr Malfoy and his son, Draco." Harry obediently slid off his chair and wandered over to them, standing close to the Potions Master. Snape rolled his eyes over the boy's head and pushed him forwards.

"Isn't it the famous Harry Potter," he heard from above him, obviously Mr Malfoy. He had a silky voice, a bit like Snape's, but his was a bit chillier. If that was even possible. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said quietly, and Harry dared to glance up at the man through his fringe.

"Pleasure to meet you too, sir," he mumbled.

"This is my son, Draco," Mr Malfoy continued, yanking the boy forward so that Harry and Draco were facing each other. "You boys are the same age. You ought to get along." Harry nodded, but Draco looked doubting. "Run along, now, I need to speak to Severus." Harry bit his lip uncertainly.

"Potter… Take Draco to your room." He glanced up briefly at Snape, who was frowning, before nodding mutely and walking towards his room. He didn't need to look back to know that Draco was following him, and that both the men were watching them go.

Upon entering his room, Harry recognised that he would have to turn and talk to this boy, Draco. He hadn't said a word yet, and Harry, being the owner of the room they were in, supposed he would have to initiate conversation. He smiled shyly.

"Hi," he said lamely. "I'm Harry."

"I know," Draco replied quietly, looking, with the boredom evident in his eyes, at Harry.

"Oh." The silence that followed was profound, and Harry felt slight resentment towards his guardian. He had no idea how to speak to this boy! He had always known he was a wizard, and it wasn't as if Harry had had a lot of friends in school, when he lived with the Dursleys. He hadn't had any at all, as a matter of fact. So just how did Snape expect him to be able to speak to this kid?

"Is it true you defeated the Dark Lord?" Draco asked suddenly, his eyes drifting up to Harry's forehead, the exact position of his legendary scar.

"What?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

"Well, is it?" Draco repeated insistently.

"I… I don't know," Harry replied. Had he? He tried to remember what Professor Dumbledore had said. His mother had died for him, and Voldemort had tried to kill him but not been able to. Draco snorted and sat down by Harry's desk, uninvited.

"This is a rather small room," he remarked. Harry nodded. Not that he agreed. It was a whole lot better than the dusty, cramped cupboard he had earlier called his own. He bit his lip to not retort something rude. The fact that Draco was insulting his room, which he loved, made anger bubble in the pit of his stomach.

"It's all right," he said tightly. Draco sniffed.

"My room is about four times the size of this. And I have a balcony."

"Can't have a balcony in the cellar, though, can you?" Harry replied testily.

"I never said so," Draco said with a frown. "So why're you living with Uncle Sev?" _Uncle Sev?_

"Uncle Sev?" Draco smirked.

"Yeah, he's my dad's friend. Always known him."

"Oh."

"Well?"

"What?" Draco sighed irritably.

"_Why are you here?"_

"Prof'sor Snape's my garde-guardian," Harry said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. It probably wasn't, but he had realised quickly that he didn't much care for this boy, Draco.

"_What_? Why?"

"Because," Harry snapped. He'd got a lot more comfortable with himself while he'd been living with Snape, as he finally got to be just a kid, and not have to cook, clean, hide and cower all the time.

"No need to get like that… Do you play Quidditch?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I've lived with my relatives up until a few weeks ago."

"So? You could play anyway."

"They're not wizards."

"You lived with _Muggles_? How awful."

"Yeah," Harry replied, though he thought it awful for entirely different reasons.

"Maybe we could play later." Harry knew about Quidditch by now. At least, he knew the theory. He had never seen it played, or tried himself, but he was rather reluctant to tell Malfoy this.

"Yeah, maybe. Are you staying all day?" Draco shrugged and began swinging his legs.

"Dunno."

"Draco!" The call was sharp and sliced through the air. The opposite of how head acted towards Harry, Draco instantly stood at his father's summons and left the room. Harry, eyebrows disappearing under his fringe, trotted after him.

Mr Malfoy and Snape were sitting by the fire, each with a cup of tea. Draco halted by the coffee table.

"I have been speaking to Professor Snape about your education."

"Yes, sir." Harry thought it was odd that Draco called his father 'sir', but said nothing. He felt uneasy in the presence of the blonde wizard, and tried to keep silent where he stood a few feet away from the others.

"_Harry_ is receiving tutoring as well, so maybe you could come here and have your lessons with him instead."

"Yes, sir." _He's very strange_, Harry thought with a frown on his face. He wanted to object: he didn't want to share his lessons with Draco. But he knew he couldn't say anything; Snape would throw a fit, for sure. But surely Draco wouldn't join in on his regular classes? He didn't seem to like Muggles much, and Harry doubted he would want to study their subjects. This made him feel a bit better about it all.

"That is settled then. Dobby will Floo you here three days a week for your classes. You can have lunch with Severus and _Harry_ as well, if that's all right?" Harry thoroughly disliked the way his name sounded in this man's voice, and hoped he wouldn't have to see too much of him in the future. In all honesty, he seemed almost reluctant to be there himself. _Good, then you can leave_, he thought spitefully.

"Certainly," Severus nodded once. Mr Malfoy stood, and Snape mimicked him.

"I have a meeting with the Minister," he declared. "Might I leave Draco here for a couple of hours? An elf can pick him up this afternoon."

"I'll be glad to have him," Snape replied in the same stiff and cool voice.

"Wonderful." He looked down at his son. "You behave for Severus."

"Yes, sir," Draco nodded eagerly.

"Do let me know if he misbehaves," Mr Malfoy added to Snape, in his drawling voice. "He knows to mind you, but boys will be boys…"

"You can rest assured that there will be no mischief today, Lucius," Snape said gravely.

"Splendid. Good day, then." He nodded to Snape and ignored the children before he flicked some Floo powder into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames. Snape turned from the dying fire and frowned down at the boys.

"Well then."


	11. Playing chess

**Hello... I feel rather sheepish at the moment.**

**So it's been an immensely long time since I updated. I'm really sorry. This chapter has been kicking my backside, which doesn't really make sense, since it's quite dreadfully boring. It is also rather short, but I felt like I couldn't wait another day uploading it, so there you are.**

**Updates will, however, be farther between. I'm facing a rather hectic term at school, and, well... It needs to come first. The story is not forgotten, and will be completed (it might just take a wee bit longer than I might have originally expected...).**

**Anyway, enough rambling. Please try to enjoy the chapter, and do tell me if you find any errors etc. It hasn't been proofread quite as carefully as is my custom...**

**Ivy**

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><p>Harry kept his eyes focused on the problem he had before him, trying to ignore Draco's huffing beside him. They were sitting in the library, Harry working on his homework while Draco pretended to be interested in the book he was reading. Or <em>supposed<em> to be reading, rather. All he'd done for the past twenty minutes had been to shift in his chair and emit the occasional puff of air in his boredom.

"Is this _all_ you _do_ all days?" the blonde asked eventually, letting the volume fall closed with a _thud_ as he placed his elbows on the polished wooden table.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, not tearing his eyes from the numbers.

"This," Draco repeated, emphasised with a shake of his hand.

"I don't study _all_ the time," Harry retorted, affronted that this stranger of a boy seemed to think him to be a complete teacher's pet.

"Well then what do you do?" Draco demanded, letting his arms drop down into his lap, staring wide-eyed at Harry while he waited expectantly.

"I help Snape with potions sometimes," Harry said slowly.

"Don't you have any friends?" This simple question was a jab unlike anything Draco could really imagine. _No_, Harry thought sombrely, _I don't have any friends._

"Not here," he said as a form of negotiation. He could hardly tell _Malfoy_ that he actually spent all this time with one professor or other now that Henry and Joanne had graduated. Thinking about them made him feel even more miserable, and he began to wonder what he would do when the school year started again and they weren't there. Would Snape assign him a new set of babysitters, or would be permitted to stay on his own? He snorted at the latter. _Likely story._

"Yeah, why are you here?" Draco asked, continuing his insistent interrogation. Harry threw his pencil down and frowned across the table at the petulant boy.

"None of your business," he muttered.

"I was only _asking_," Draco drawled. "Come on, let's go do something else." Harry frowned again, this time from uncertainty.

"I think we're supposed to wait here for Professor Snape."

"Uncle Sev won't mind if we take a break," Draco said with a roll of his eyes.

"I have to finish this though," Harry said, nodding towards the paper.

"You can do it later! Come _on_." Reluctantly, Harry got up from his chair and followed Draco to the large doors. The blonde threw them open with such vigour; they hit the outside walls, creating a loud bang that made Harry wince. Draco spun around and beckoned for the smaller boy to follow. "Hurry up, then." Harry threw a final glance at the library before he tore off after the now running Malfoy.

* * *

><p>The two boys leaned out through the open window, ignoring the hair that was sent across their faces by the warm breeze. They were up in the seventh floor, and the corridor was deserted save for a couple of mice that were scuttling from corner to corner in the far end.<p>

"Do you reckon they'll come?" Harry asked in a hushed voice, his eyes not tearing from the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.

"'Course," Draco replied with confidence. They had nicked a few pieces of bacon from a passing House Elf, and Draco had told Harry they'd surely be able to coax an eagle or two close with the meat. Harry didn't even know there were eagles at Hogwarts, but then, Draco lived in a wizard family and probably knew more about Hogwarts than Harry.

"But what if they don't?"

"Schh…" Harry fell silent instantly, straining his eyes to try and see any kind of bird of prey. Seven minutes of staring later, though, they still hadn't spotted anything except a couple of magpies and an owl heading for the owlery. Harry was glad that he had grown used to this kind of post: he couldn't imagine what Draco would say if he'd shown any kind of awe by the bird delivering letters. He emitted a sigh and pulled himself into the castle again.

"This isn't working," he stated critically. When he noticed that the sun seemed to be on its way down, he bit his lip, and cast anxious glances down both ways of the corridor. "Maybe we should go back to the library. Snape might be back soon." Harrumphing, Draco pulled himself inside, too, and flicked his hair out of his face.

"Oh all right. We'd best go; I'm not sure of the way back." Harry gaped at him, but the blonde started down the hallway and Harry had no choice but to follow.

"What if Snape comes back though?" Harry asked worriedly, wringing his hands as he hurried to keep up with the taller boy. Draco wafted his hand dismissively, though Harry noticed that he sped up slightly.

"We'll just say we needed the loo," he answered simply, turning down a staircase, letting his hand drag squeakily along the rail. Harry didn't answer, but did his best to keep next to Draco. The got down to the Entrance Hall, realised they had gone too far down and had to turn and run back up the stairs. As they jogged around a corner, they spotted the broad, black back of the Potions Master at the other end, conversing with Professor Dumbledore. Stiffening, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. Draco, in a fit of desperation, grabbed hold of the bespectacled boy's sleeve and tugged him forward. They walked quietly, and then Draco let go of Harry, opened the door to the library and closed it noisily. Snape spun around instantly, and his eyes zeroed in on the boys. Giving a curt comment to the Headmaster, he then proceeded down the corridor, his robes billowing after him after him as he approached the children. Harry stared up at his guardian with big eyes behind his glasses.

"We were going to the loo," Draco said after having been glared at for almost an entire minute of silence. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder: "It's that way, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Snape nodded, raising a single, black eyebrow. "Both of you at the same time?" Draco shrugged. "Hm." Harry squirmed in the pressing silence. "Very well. But you might as well fetch your things and come back to my quarters." They both nodded obediently, and hurried to gather their things.

Upon entering Snape's quarters, he instantly pointed to Harry's room from behind his desk.

"Go play for a while. The Headmaster will be along in a few minutes and I wish to share a conversation in private with him." He eyed the children in foreboding silence. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded quickly. Snape gave a curt nod and the boys trotted through the corridor to Harry's room, closing the door behind them.

"What do you reckon that's about?" Malfoy asked as soon as the door clicked shut.

"Dunno," Harry replied uninterestedly, placing his things carefully on his small desk. "What are you doing?" he added with a frown as Draco edged towards the door and leaned the side of his head against the wood.

"Pipe down will you," he retaliated, and waved his hand for Harry to be silent. Of course, Harry then realised just what this other strange boy was doing, and his eyes widened.

"_No_," he hissed, grabbing Draco's arm forcefully, attempting to drag him back. "No, you mustn't," he added.

"Don't be such a girls' blouse," Draco huffed, yanking himself free.

"We'll get in trouble," Harry whispered.

"Of course we won't," Draco answered with a roll of his eyes. "Don't be silly."

"But if Snape finds out—"

"And just how would he find out?"

"I dunno, but he always does," Harry mumbled. This was true. Harry had stayed up after his bedtime several times, and the dour professor always found out. He had skipped lunch when with Henry, and Snape had found out. He had lounged with Henry in the Slytherin commons when Henry was supposed to have class, and Snape had caught them. The man had an uncanny ability to be right where there was mischief going on, and Harry had a scary feeling that would be the case this time, too.

"Oh please," Draco scoffed. "If we're listening in we'll hear him coming and have time to clear up. It'll be fine." He leaned against the door again, his eyes rather vacant as he strained to hear the exchange between the Headmaster and the Potions professor. Harry, deciding he didn't like Draco at all, scowled at the door, crossing his arms as he sat down heavily on his bed.

"I heard your name," Draco whispered after about a minute, biting his tongue in concentration. At this revelation, Harry felt a slight twitch, sort of itching to just creep over to the door and join in. Snape wouldn't know. And if he did, why did it matter? They were talking about him. He should be allowed to know what was going on. He wrung his hands, feeling terribly torn about the whole situation. "Oh come here!" Draco hissed, waving his arm. Still with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry rose and walked over to the door. Since Snape's quarters were rather small, it wasn't too difficult to hear the quiet conversation beyond the door. At least it wasn't if you breathed really slowly and tried to make sure your heart didn't beat at a gallop.

"… Black's trial," came Snape's muffled and serious voice.

"It shouldn't be long," was Dumbledore's reply to the question Harry had not heard. "There is already a certain amount of suspicious around the delay, and I doubt the Minister will deny my request in getting this ordeal over with as soon as possible."

"Is he still in Azkaban?"

"No I believe he is being held in a more… humane environment," Dumbledore replied delicately. Snape snorted. Or at least Harry thought so. It might've been the crackle of the fire, or Dumbledore coughing slightly.

"Imagine the havoc should he be found guilty," Snape mused.

"He is innocent, Severus, you know this as well as I."

"Hardly reason enough for the Wizengamot to release him," said Snape contemptuously.

"We shall see," was Dumbledore's muffled comment.

At this point, Harry had had enough and, rather forcefully, pulled Draco away from the door to prevent them from hearing anything more.

"Oi! What're you doing?"

"We've heard them talk now, so we should leave it," Harry said. He hadn't been with Snape that long and he certainly did not feel comfortable eavesdropping on the man. Not yet. Then again, he wasn't sure children used to listen in on their parents. No one in school had spoken to him, and it wasn't as if he'd discussed parents with Henry and Joanne.

Draco merely snorted in irritation, but didn't persist. Despite his nonchalant air, Harry didn't really believe he didn't care about getting into trouble. He had seemed rather afraid of his father, actually.

"What do you suggest we do then?" he asked, sounding bored rather than irritated now.

"We could play chess," Harry suggested. Snape had played with him three times before. Harry knew the rules of chess, but had been taken aback by the wizard variant of the game. He found it entertaining though, and thought it'd be an all right pastime.

"All right," Draco said, almost unexpectedly, and sat down on the carpet-clad floor. Harry retrieved the set from his desk and they set up the pieces on the board between them.

* * *

><p>"Surely you trust me, Severus," Dumbledore said placidly.<p>

"Certainly, Headmaster."

"Then you can rest assured that the Wizengamot will have no reason to deny Sirius the freedom he should never have been deprived of." Severus silently cursed the elderly wizard's calmness and assurance of his own influence. _Not to mention his flaunty wordings,_ he thought. "Something else is troubling you," Dumbledore continued, his teacup clinking as it was set onto the saucer resting on the low table.

"Always so perceptive."

"Come now, Severus. There is no need for that." And there most certainly is no need for you to address me as though I am some petulant child.

"The boy would give even the most patient wizard a headache," the Potions Master retorted.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore nodded. "From what I've seen, he seems to be a perfectly agreeable child. You seem to be getting along just fine."

"He is too much like his father to be labelled agreeable," Snape spat, knowing somewhere that he didn't entirely believe his own words.

"I think we both know that Harry is like James in looks, but his heart and mind is Lily's." Of course, having taken care of the boy for several weeks, Severus had noticed this quality in Potter. He hadn't liked it, had even attempted something as petty as denying it, but it was no use. Harry was most definitely Lily's child, despite his jet black hair and crooked glasses.

"Of course," Dumbledore continued, interrupting Severus short reverie, "Both Lily and James were Gryffindors. It is probable that Harry will have inherited some of their more… rash sides." Blue eyes twinkled and robes swished as Dumbledore rose. "I had best be off. Dinner will be served soon."

"Yes," Severus agreed, also rising. "I ought to send Draco home."

"Yes, Draco. How are the boys getting along?" Severus' eyes narrowed slightly.

"Well, so far. I don't, however, trust them alone together, which is why I would like to see to them." Dumbledore, polite as he was, nodding smilingly, taking the hint, and departed.

As Severus banished the tea cups and was heading for Harry's room, the Floo roared to life, casting the room, for a moment, in bright green light. Spinning around, wand delicately hidden behind his arm, he faced the fireplace, only to be met by Lucius Malfoy.

"Lucius," he greeted, slipping his wand into its holster again.

"Severus," Malfoy nodded curtly. "I'm afraid Narcissa insisted I collect Draco myself." He pursed his lips. "I doubt it will happen again."

"Certainly. Shall I collect him for you?"

"Yes, thank you." Severus turned without another word, stalking through the short hallway and into Harry's room.

The boys jumped then the door was opened suddenly, scattering a few of their chess pieces onto the carpet. Severus, almost pleased to se he'd startled them, towered over the children.

"Draco, your father is here." Draco immediately rose, his playful air vanishing almost as quickly as the pleasant atmosphere in the room. Severus spared one glance for Harry before he swept out of the room, leading Draco out. Harry sat alone on his bedroom floor, the trace of a grin slowly dripping off his face.


	12. Guessing game

**A/N: Good evening (: so this took a beastly long time, and it's not even very long, or very interesting. But there we are. Sorry.**

**Things'll be happening in the next chapter, and we'll be getting somewhere with the whole Sirius thing, so that ought to be interesting.**

**I hope no one is too disappointed, and I hope I won't take such an awfully long time to write and upload the next chapter!**

**Ivy**

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><p>Severus looked up from the morning's Prophet to shoot his ward a seething glare.<p>

"Cease your fidgeting," he ordered curtly, shaking out the paper with a rustle, his gaze returning to the article he had been perusing. Harry dared a grimace in the professor's direction before taking a bite out of his toast, swiping with the back of his hand at his crumby lips. It was Thursday morning, and Harry would be going to his English lesson with Professor Burbage in half an hour. He'd had potions the day before, which had been a small disaster.

"Now did you read your pages?" Snape had asked when they'd sat down in the Potions classroom. The blush on the boy's face told him that no, Harry had not read the designated pages in the simple book. "Harry," he'd growled. "It was only three pages, and you had plenty of time to do it.

"I know," Harry had muttered. "But I had other stuff to do."

"You have six subjects, out of which I am practically alone in giving you homework," Snape had pointed out sternly.

"Professor Burbage does too!"

"Nevertheless, we never give you more than you can cope with."

"It's summer though," he'd muttered.

"I am well aware of the season." Snape had pinched the bridge of his nose at this point of the conversation.

"But then why do I have to study?" Harry was tired because he'd not been able to sleep, and feeling more comfortable and daring than he normally did.

"Because I have told you so. Now you will behave yourself for this lesson. And get rid of that deplorable attitude."

"I don't have an _attitude_," Harry had argued with a frown on his small forehead as he picked at the wooden desk.

"I beg your pardon?" Harry said nothing, refusing to look at Snape. "Corner. Now." As Harry's heartbeat quickened, he slid off his seat and hasted to the corner, suddenly uncertain of why he'd been acting the way he had.

"Finish your breakfast." Snape's voice broke Harry out of his mental recount of the previous day's lesson. He nodded and stuffed the rest of his toast into his mouth, drinking his orange juice in two big gulps. "Well…" The professor had discarded the newspaper, leaving it neatly folded on the table top between them. "Did you write the paper Professor Burbage asked for?" Harry nodded obediently. "And you have checked it through for spelling and grammar errors?" Harry grimaced and Snape raised an eyebrow. "No one likes misspelled and poorly crafted essays, young man."

"I know…"

"And your handwriting needs some serious improvement. I wouldn't be surprised if Professor Burbage would need someone to translate your scribbles for her."

"Hey!"

"Don't 'hey' me," Severus snapped. Harry pouted, but straightened his face at the look his guardian sent him. Seconds later, the potions master was on his feet, brusquely straightening his cuffs. "Come along, we'd best get going." Having no objections, Harry jumped off his chair, pushed it back under the table and trotted after the tall wizard out of their dungeon quarters. "Do you have everything?" Harry, who was walking behind Snape, almost dropped his things at the professor's sudden exclamation.

"Oh. Oh. Yes. Yes I do." Severus just shook his head and kept walking.

* * *

><p>Severus made his way to the Head's office in his usual long, determined stride, his mind miles away, which was rather unusual for the normally very collected Potions Master. Dumbledore had requested his presence in his office, as there had apparently been some kind of development with what Severus referred to as the "flee problem". Sirius' trial was scheduled for the following Monday. The process had been dragged out by the fact that the Ministry had such an awful amount of work, and there were <em>so<em> many people to interrogate, and the Minister was always "unavailable". Severus had not met the Mutt himself, but Dumbledore had visited him a couple of times, relaying the experience to Severus with pain in his voice. _His beloved Gryffindor_, he thought irritably as he rounded a corner with a flick of his robes, barking the password to the gargoyle and began ascending the stairs.

"Severus, good morning," Dumbledore greeted the second the Potions Master pulled open the door.

"Albus," he nodded in reply, seating himself on the chair opposite the sturdy desk, his back rigid as he eyed the elderly Headmaster. Dumbledore sighed, but unlike his usual sighs, this sounded rather relieved. Severus became increasingly suspicious.

"What's happened?"

"Where is Harry currently?" Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Why, in his lesson with Professor Burbage. Headmaster, please let us get to the matter at hand."

"Sirius wishes to see the boy," Dumbledore admitted serenely, and Snape found himself shaking his head curtly before the man had even finished his sentence.

"No."

"Severus, surely you see the—"

"The need to frighten the child out of his wits, and have him influenced by that lunatic? No, I'm afraid I do _not_ see the necessity of _that_, Headmaster."

"Don't you agree that Harry should have a say in this?" he asked quietly.

"Absolutely not. The boy is eight, Albus, hardly capable of making sound decisions about his well-being."

"Of course the final decision rests with you, Severus, but if Harry wants to meet his godfather, could we really deny him that? The child has lost both his parents, and Sirius is a link to them."

"And I am not?" The Potion's Master asked humourlessly, staring the Headmaster straight in the eye.

"I wasn't aware that you and James ever saw eye to eye," Dumbledore continued in the same matter-of-fact voice.

"Regardless of my feelings towards Potter, the boy will not be visiting his _godfather_," Severus replied, spitting out the last word with rather impressive malice, considering his stony face.

"As you wish," Dumbledore said quietly, in a manner which told Snape the old man would have his way eventually. Of course, Severus was well aware that he would not be able to prevent their meeting for ever: as soon as Sirius was properly and officially released, he had every right in the world to see Harry. Additionally, this would present the problem of custody. Severus would be signing the adoption papers the following day, meaning that Sirius would be late with, say, two weeks. The fury the man would exhibit rather amused Severus, but he was, naturally, insightful enough to realise that Sirius could make things difficult for them.

"Thank you." And with that the conversation ended, the door closing with a muffled click.

* * *

><p>Harry's tongue was poking out between his lips as he wrote the finishing sentence for his English assignment. When done, he dropped the quill onto the table top, shook his hand to relieve it of some of the strain, and then looked smilingly up at Professor Burbage.<p>

"I've finished," he informed her proudly.

"Oh, splendid!" she exclaimed, sweeping the parchment up from under his nose. "I'll take a look at this 'til next English class, all right?"

"Okay, thank you."

"Now off you go. Flitwick is expecting you."

"Thanks. Bye!" He waved quickly before gathering up all his things and exiting the classroom, making his way to his next class, five doors down. He was aware that Snape had arranged for all his classes to be close together, making sure the boy would have no reason to go wandering. Harry merely sighed at this, not finding it in him to be annoyed. He didn't have to walk far this way, which was always nice.

"Harry, how nice to see you," the petit professor squeaked as Harry entered the room. Draco was already there, sitting at one of the desks, twirling his quill. He turned as Harry arrived, almost smiling.

"Hullo," Harry greeted both of them, placing his things on the desk next to Draco and slipping into the seat.

"Wonderful. Now today, I thought we'd have a spot of fun," Flitwick began, flicking his wand to close the door Harry had neglected. "We've been practising wand movements lately, and to see if you remember them all, I think we'll have a small competition." Draco and Harry's eyes met, and they both squinted. _Oh I have to win this_, Harry thought, knowing that Draco would never let him live down a loss. Then again, if he did win, Draco would probably get really miffed and not speak to him for days. Harry sighed quietly. Perhaps if they tied…

"Or perhaps just a game," Flitwick added hastily, having seen and correctly interpreted the glances between the two boys. Harry visibly relaxed. "Are you both ready?" Draco and Harry nodded, leaning forward on their desks to make sure they didn't miss anything. The short professor smiled indulgently and then swished his wand through the first motion.

"Wingardium leviosa," Harry said in a rush before Draco could even open his mouth.

"Precisely Harry, very good indeed!" Harry felt rather than saw the nasty glance Draco dealt him, but decided to ignore him for now. It was only a game. The next hour passed quickly as the boys continued to guess. Some of the spells were advanced enough that the boys had a hard time telling them apart. They wouldn't be trying their hand at these spells until their third or fourth year, at the earliest, but Flitwick saw no reason why they shouldn't get used to them earlier than that. About halfway through, though, Draco seemed to try and start talking to Harry, something difficult in a class of only two people. It wasn't as though the teacher wouldn't notice. Harry kept nudging him to shut up until eventually the blonde did so, huffing in irritation. _Later_, Harry thought.

Later proved to have to be the following day, as Draco had not stayed for lunch, and the boys had no way of speaking. And not until later that evening did Harry speak properly to his guardian, either.

"Take _one_ bit at a time," Severus snapped at the eager child as they were having their dinner, later on that evening. Harry swallowed his food and drank some water, trying not to smile at Snape's sour demeanour.

"All right then," he agreed, popping into his mouth what would hopefully be considered "one bite", not more, not less.

"How was your charms class?" Severus asked as they polished off the last of their meals.

"Fun," Harry replied merrily. "Draco and I got to play a guessing game. Which wand movement matched which spell and stuff." Snape made sure not to make a face at this. Playing games. He trusted that Flitwick was a very competent teacher, had in fact been taught by him himself, but he saw no reason why the boys should be playing games in their classes.

"I see. And Draco was well?" The boy had not eaten lunch with Harry and Snape that day, but been picked up by a house elf straight after charms, to Harry's disappointment. Despite their occasional fights and arguments, he did enjoy having the company of someone else his age.

"I s'pose," Harry nodded, poking around in the few stray leaves left from his salad.

"You suppose?"

"Well I didn't ask him," Harry frowned. Severus rolled his eyes just as Blinky appeared and took their plates away, beaming at Harry before popping away again.

"I see. Perhaps you ought to make it a habit of asking people how they are when you meet them. It is considered a polite gesture, as you might have heard previously," Snape commented sarcastically. Harry huffed but said nothing.

"May I be excused?" Severus raised an eyebrow.

"What has you rushing off in a hurry then?" he enquired.

"Nothing. I just want to go to my room." Essentially, Severus didn't mind the fact that the child wanted to excuse himself. Merlin knew he wished he got more time for himself lately, but he found it rather suspicious that the boy wasn't craving his, Snape's, presence, as he almost always did.

"Very well," he consented, and Harry slid off his chair and trotted into his room, leaving the Potions Master to stare after him in deep thought.

Harry plopped down by his desk, drumming his small fingers on the sturdy wood. What was it Draco had wanted to say? The only reason he was hooked on the thought was because he didn't generally talk a lot to Draco. They discussed school work, and Draco would occasionally relate to Harry what it was like having grown up in a wizarding household (albeit a rather wealthy one). In their class today, though, he had seemed like he wanted to tell Harry something urgent, and that had most certainly never happened previously.

He pulled out his History homework (writing a text of 400 words about one of the Knights of the Round Table from the Arthurian legends), deciding he needed to be distracted for a bit. Not to mention the fact that it was due tomorrow, and Professor Burbage would have his head if didn't hand it in on time.

* * *

><p>When it drew near 8.30 and Harry had not reappeared in the living room, Severus abandoned his tea and book and made his way to the boy's room, intent on finding out just what kind of mischief the child was up to. He strode decisively through the short corridor, and did not knock before opening the door to Harry's room. Rather than finding the boy playing around like the nuisance he was, he couldn't even see him at first. Then his eyes fell on the desk. Harry was sitting on his chair, his cheek pressed against the parchment on the table, breathing deeply, and very clearly asleep. Severus gazed at him for a few moments before sighing and entering the room fully. Very carefully, so as to not wake him up, he lifted Harry up and carried him over to the bed, transfiguring his clothes temporarily into pyjamas before tucking him in among the sheets. Some of the ink had transferred itself onto the boy's pink cheek, and so Severus removed it with a small whip of his wand.<p>

Once he was certain the child was settled, he turned back to the desk to see what had the boy so exhausted. On the desk lay a thin, beginner's textbook in History, open to a page about Sir Lancelot. Severus found himself fighting away a smile as he saw Harry's attempts to write an essay, each try sloppier than the other as he got more and more fatigued.

He quietly restored the text where the ink had been smudged, placed a mark in the book before closing it and then turned the lights down in the room before exiting. _Perhaps I ought to sleep, too,_ he thought, walking back to the living room to retrieve his book and finish off his tea. _Yes, that does sound like a rather splendid idea._


	13. A Black revelation

**Here we are! It's short, I know, but I still felt like I needed to end it there, since there'll be a bit of a jump in the next chapter. Waaaaah. You'll see (:**

**I should really say this "officially"; thank you so, _so_ much for all your wonderfully kind reviews! I am overwhelmed by the positive feedback I've received for this fic. I never thought it would happen, to tell the truth. So thank you for keeping my spirits up!**

**Please review and share your thoughts! Lots of love, always,**

**Ivy**

* * *

><p>The following day brought the finest weather they had had so far. The sun was shining dazzlingly, and the light breeze felt refreshing to the skin.<p>

Harry would, unfortunately, not experience this. As soon as he had finished his morning meal, he was whisked off to his History class, glad to have finished his homework the previous evening. He'd been surprised to wake up and find himself in bed, and realised that Snape must've carried him there. It was with some embarrassment that he left his room that morning, but Snape had said nothing of the affair, and so Harry chose not to mention it either.

After his first class, his head was swimming with dates and names, but he felt satisfied with his work, and looked forward to his Defence lesson, which would commence in 15 minutes. As he arrived outside the designated classroom, he found Draco leaving against the wall. Usually, he didn't arrive until right before the class started, and so it was with some surprise that Harry greeted his friend.

"_There_ you are!" Draco exclaimed, pulling himself off the wall. "I've been waiting for _ages_!"

"I had a lesson," Harry replied with a frown, dropping his things onto the floor, so as to not have to hold everything until their lesson together started. "Why are you here so early anyway?"

"Well I didn't get the chance to tell you yesterday, so I got here a bit early," Draco explained.

"Tell me what?" Harry asked, genuinely curious to hear what information Draco might have to share. Usually, when Draco told Harry things, it was all very interesting and had Harry asking for more, simply because it always had to do with the wizarding world. Draco was full to the brim with titbits of information, things Snape would never have thought to mention. Like the sweets in Honeydukes, the Quidditch World Cup, dragons, the old wizarding families. Draco had even said that his family, Harry's, was very old, and had been one of the biggest families previously.

"About Black," Draco said hurriedly, obviously just as eager to share the news as Harry was to hear it.

"What's black?"

"Not _what_, you broomhead, _who_," Draco said in exasperation.

"Black is a person?"

"Yes. Well, several people. It's a surname, one of the old families."

"Oh. And why is that interesting?"

"Ha! I knew you didn't know!"

"Know _what_?" Harry asked, getting annoyed with Draco long-winded way of getting to the point.

"Sirius Black. He's your godfather."

"My godfather? What does that mean?" Harry had heard Dudley talk about his "god mummy", but had never known quite what he meant by that. As far as he knew, the Dursleys weren't religious, and so he'd always been rather befuddled as to the meaning of Dudley's "god mummy".

"You don't know?" Draco frowned. "Well, it's… It's sort of like… Like an uncle. But not related," he decided finally, proud to have found a good way of explaining it.

"Oh. And I have one?"

"Yes. I heard my father talking about it the other day. Shouldn't have, of course, but there you are."

"But why have I never met him?" Harry asked.

"Oh he's been in prison."

"In _prison_?"

"Yes. For murdering a load of Muggles or something. When we were little."

"He's a murderer?" Harry was horrified by the fact that his non-related uncle was a killer. For a moment, he'd thought maybe he actually _did_ have family, of sorts, still alive.

"Not sure," Draco said with a frown. "There's been some stuff in the papers about him recently. I think they're letting him out."

"But if he's murdered people…"

"Maybe he hasn't then, if they're letting him go."

"Maybe…"

"But yes. See, godparents are supposed to take care of their godchildren if their parents can't. So wouldn't that mean you should go and live with him?"

"I dunno. I'm going to live with Snape."

"But maybe now that they're letting him out, you'll live with him," Draco persisted, silently wishing Harry wouldn't be staying with Severus. As much as he enjoyed Harry's company, he didn't like that this new boy was intruding on his family and family friends. As far as Draco was concerned, Harry was a moderately nice boy, who had managed to creep his way into other people's business.

"Maybe, I suppose," Harry replied absently, nibbling at the corner of his lip as he considered the information Draco had just shared. As his lip became raw and he tasted blood, Professor Snape came walking briskly towards them

"Get inside, boys," he ordered curtly as he held the door open for them. Both children ducked under his arm and made their way inside, seating themselves beside one another, at a pair of desks at the very front of the classroom. Harry, having placed his bag by his feet and dropped his quill, parchment and ink on the desk, frowned in Snape's direction. Of course, the Potions Master, having been teaching "insolent children" for years, did not miss the look he was being given by his charge.

"I would advise you to wipe that look off your face right now," he said in a low voice, his dark eyes boring into the green in front of him. Harry's forehead relaxed, but he still looked rather troubled. "Well then. I assume you have both read the designated chapter?" Harry nodded; Draco fidgeted. "Draco?"

"I might've accidentally forgotten," he mumbled into the desk.

"I see. I'll have a word with you afterwards. Now then, moving on to the theory we were discussing last week. As I hope you recall, defensive strategies vary from the –"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Snape whipped around and faced Harry, who was frowning again, and had obviously just blurted out something without thinking.

"I beg your pardon?" he forced through gritted teeth, clenching the chalk between his thumb and index finger.

"Why didn't you tell me about my godfather?" Harry elaborated, his young, naïve face pinched as only an eight-year-old can manage. The question obviously took Snape off guard, as his grip loosened and his face took on an almost blank expression. It only lasted a second though, before his eyes hardened again and he chucked the chalk onto his desk.

"Where did you hear about him?" he asked silkily. Harry didn't quite know what to answer, but his eyes, entirely without his permission, slid over to Draco and then quickly back to Snape. "I see." Draco looked unsure of himself as Snape glared at him. "_I see_," the professor repeated. "Draco, since you did not manage to read the pages I assigned you, I suggest you do that right now. I'll have a word with Mr Potter. Outside." He strode past the desks, not even glancing back to ensure Harry was following. In a heartbeat, Harry was out of his seat, trotting after the dour professor. The door closed with an ominous thud behind the two, and Snape rounded on Harry. "When did Draco tell you?" he demanded immediately, frowning pensively.

"Today," Harry admitted, on the one hand feeling guilty for knowing something he oughtn't, and on the other still annoyed that Snape had never told him. He _was_ almost nine, after all. Why should he not know about something like this?

"And what, might I ask, compelled you to bring it up in _that_ fashion?"

"Well you didn't tell me," Harry mumbled, still torn between apprehension and indignation.

"What I choose to tell you is my business, Harry, and –"

"But he's my godfather!"

"Do not interrupt me," Snape hissed through gritted teeth, starting to get fed up with having to reprimand the boy for the same things continuously. "The situation with Black is delicate at this point and there are several reasons behind my not telling you."

"But I should have known! Why can I not go live with him?" Harry demanded, his cheeks flushed.

"You are eight years old, Harry, so I –"

"Almost nine!" Severus snapped his mouth shut, and his eyes hardened. Placing a steady hand on Harry's shoulder, he turned him around, marched him into the classroom and placed him promptly in a corner.

"Not one word," Snape said in a low voice, right next to Harry's ear, before rising and walking over to Draco. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. _What a rubbish day._

* * *

><p>The man's formerly black and shiny hair was now shaggy and dirty, hanging like curtains across his sallow face. He stared blankly straight ahead as he was led through the dark, dank corridors of the wizard prison, hardly even noticing the dementors floating menacingly behind him. Vaguely he understood where they were going, and why. But after having spent almost eight years in Azkaban, he found it rather difficult to grasp the full meaning of what was happening, and so his brain kept up its monotonous buzzing, not allowing him to hope, despair or even think about what might or might not happen.<p>

A heavy set of doors clanked open in front of him, and he realised he had to walk through on his own. The two guards at his sides, human fortunately, did not push him through, or even guide him. Taking a few uncertain steps, he arrived at the old, cracking fireplace.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement," one of the guards said gruffly, chucking a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. Understanding, somehow, that he was meant to step through, Sirius walked into the green flames and was whisked away from that place of terror for the first time in almost a decade.

* * *

><p>"Inside," Snape ordered as he arrived with Harry at his quarters after Draco and had been fetched by an elf straight after their lesson had ended. Harry ducked his head and hurried through the door, flinching as it was banged shut behind him.<p>

After having spent twenty minutes in the corner, he had been sent to sit at his desk, and he and Draco had been made to read intensely and quietly for the remainder of the Defence lesson. It was now lunchtime, and Harry was rather certain that his conversation with Professor Snape was far from over.

"Sit." Harry plopped down on the couch, sat on his hands, and let his eyes follow the man as he wandered around, flicking on light with his wand, shrugging off his robe and hanging it up. Tugging his cuffs into a more orderly fashion, he strode over to his chair, sat down and narrowed his eyes at the bespectacled boy in front of him. "Now then. Start from the beginning." He did not need to elaborate, even though Harry did hesitate a bit, before starting to talk after a particularly stern glance from his guardian.

"Well Draco arrived early for our lesson," he began quietly, shifting on the leather couch. "And he said he had something to tell me. And then… And then he said all of that about my godfather."

"All of what?"

"That he's in prison," Harry whispered, looking nervously through his fringe at Snape. "That he killed loads of people."

"And?"

"And… And that he's my godfather," Harry added with a small nod. "Kind of like an uncle," he added, perhaps more to himself than to Snape.

"I see. And where exactly did Mr Malfoy attain this information?" Harry had no desire whatsoever to tattle on Draco, but he realised he'd probably have to. Snape always seemed to know when he was lying. It was rather uncanny, actually.

"He… was told by his father." Snape's eyes narrowed, if possible, even further.

"Is the word told really the right word for this instance, young man?" he said silkily. Harry fidgeted.

"Well…"

"Hm?"

"Maybe not," he whispered in response, feeling unsure of himself, as he was not entirely certain what it was he'd done wrong. Draco was the one who had eavesdropped on his father. Harry hadn't even had a choice in the matter.

"No, maybe not. Would you care to rephrase?"

"He listened to his dad's conversation," Harry whispered.

"There we are," Snape said, his voice firm but slightly approving. "Harry, I need you to listen to me very carefully now," he continued sternly, making sure he had the boy's full and undivided attention. "You may think yourself hard done by, but I can assure you that there are reasons behind you not knowing of your godfather. You are eight years old, and certain things are best kept from you. With regards to Black, I will tell you when, or if, he is released from prison." Harry bobbed his head up and down, all his earlier annoyance having evaporated at some point during the short exchange. "Good boy." Severus proceeded to call one of the elves from the kitchens, and ordered their usual pot of tea. It arrived a mere few minutes later, and the Potions Master silently filled the two cups, adding cream and a bit of sugar to the cup he handed to Harry.

"Thank you," Harry said, speaking for the first time since he'd finished explaining what had happened during the day. Severus nodded curtly, sipping his steaming tea. As he regarded the boy, he realised something wasn't quite right. It wasn't like Harry to be this silent, even if he had just been scolded, however lightly. "Harry." The boy's head snapped up, and he almost upset his teacup. Snape stared at him silently, trying to make the boy understand he couldn't simply go and shut all his opinions, ideas and emotions up inside, however reluctant he, Snape, was to have to deal with tears and temper tantrums.

"It's just… Will I live with him?" Severus kept the boy's eyes, thinking.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Well… Draco said that's what it means, to have a godfather. That you live with him. If you don't have any parents I mean."

"Do you suppose Draco is the sort of person to believe?" Severus countered, raising an eyebrow at the boy. Harry shrugged. "Verbal answers always, young man," Severus snapped, back to his normal self after a painfully long time of being understanding.

"Maybe," Harry said, a hint of a whinge in his voice.

"Mm. You remember I told you you will never have to go back to your aunt and uncle?"

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"And you won't. You have been staying here for about six weeks now, and I do believe you have settled into a healthy rhythm. The plan is that you will stay."

"And will you adopt me?" The question took Severus by surprise. Haven't we been through this?

"Yes, Harry, I will adopt you," he said in a strained voice, clenching the handle of the china cup tightly.

"Good," Harry said, to his own, and the professor's, surprise. "I like it here."

"I'm glad," Severus answered sarcastically.


	14. Releases and rebukes

**I fear this has been long overdue! But here it is anyway, a little bit longer than the previous few chapters :)**  
><strong>I'm heading to England in a few days, and so I won't be updatng before the 12th of July. I'll try to write some while I'm away though, so hopefully (with no promises, as I always seem to break them) it won't take very long after I get back for an update.<br>_Also: this chapter contains a spanking. There's a warning in chapter one, but I felt I'd just point it out. Feel free to skip it if it bothers you; I'd rather not have any angry e-mails._**  
><strong>Please leave a review, whether it be constructive criticism or just saying hi. <strong>

**Have a lovely summer!**

**Ivy**

* * *

><p>"Where's Harry?"<p>

"… must sign your name right here, Mr Black," the brusque man continued, as if he had not heard Sirius' question. Holding the quill stiffly, his fingers unused to the action, Sirius stared at the man, who looked pointedly away.

"Where is my godson?"

"I really must insist that you put your signature on the line right here, Mr Black, as these forms—"

"Ensure my release, yes I know," Sirius snapped, scratching down a wobbly signature at the bottom of the indicated page. The parchment popped out of existence, and the fancy quill was immediately taken from his rough hand.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Black." Sirius nodded curtly, before following the other couple of men who would lead him to one of the Ministry quarters, where he would spend the evening and night before he was set back into the real world at 8 AM the following morning. He did not see his surroundings as they marched, did not note the staring onlookers. _I must find Harry._

* * *

><p>"It's my birthday in three weeks today!" Harry exclaimed as he bounded out of his room one morning. Severus, dressed properly in his full robes already at seven thirty, slowly raised his gaze from the morning Prophet, giving the boy his customary, dull look.<p>

"I am aware of the date," he remarked, shaking out the paper and returning to his morning reading. Harry, not to be deterred by his guardian's ever-present misery, skipped over to the table, scrambled up on the chair and began buttering a piece of toast with such vigour that it almost sent the jug of juice to the floor. "_Harry_." He looked up at the sharp admonishment, grimaced, but slowed down considerably. After munching on his breakfast for a few minutes, Harry suddenly stopped dead and stared at the Potions Master, his small eyes filled with dread.

"It's Wednesday today."

"Thank you for clearing up the obvious, Mr Potter," Severus said with a snort of sarcasm.

"That means my birthday will be on a Wednesday."

"Indeed it does."

"But I have lessons on Wednesdays!" Harry immediately exclaimed, dropping the toast to his plate, his eyes taking on an almost crazed look. "I can't have lessons on my birthday, Snape!" The Prophet immediately fell down to the table, revealing the pale, frowning face of Severus.

"That's Professor Snape, young man. And yes, you will still have your lessons. You'd have lessons on your birthday if you went to Hogwarts."

"But I don't go to Hogwarts yet, sir!" Harry whinged on, his lips wobbling.

"Oh, do cease this impudent display," Severus snapped, flicking a minimal crumb off his sleeve.

"But please…"

"You will have your lessons, Harry, and that is the end of this discussion," Severus said with finality, rising and banishing the rest of their breakfast things with an impatient flick of his wand. "Now fetch your things. Professor Burbage is expecting you in fifteen minutes." Harry's jaw worked for a moment, before he jumped off the chair and stomped to his room. Severus forced himself not to march after the boy and correct his behaviour, and opted to remain standing stiffly close to the door. Though he was stock still, physically, his mind was working at a furious rate. Recently, he felt as though he was giving the boy far too much freedom. Without forcing himself to do so, which was even stranger. On the contrary, he generally found himself absolutely astounded at the amount of patience he had for the child and his antics. The Headmaster had of course predicted such an alteration in the normally dour Potions Master, for he seemed to smile wistfully every time he lay eyes on Severus. He almost snorted. Severus Snape, a family man? _The very idea._

"—not really fair," was all Severus heard of Harry's muttering as the boy re-entered the room.

"Pardon?"

"What?" Severus sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What is it you are grumbling so insistently about?" Harry looked sheepishly up at his guardian.

"Oh." _Was I really saying that aloud?_

"Oh indeed. Hmm?"

"It's just…" Harry fidgeted. "It's weird."

"Do elaborate."

"Huh?" Severus suddenly felt a desire to throttle the child.

"Do not _huh_ me, Mr Potter," he snapped.

"Sorry, sir." The fact that the boy almost grimaced at the title did nothing to improve his situation with the older wizard.

"Now tell me what's going on in that wretchedly insolent head of yours."

"Well… You always call me Harry."

"As if it were your name."

"No, I mean… Why do I have to call you Professor and sir then?" Severus, though taken aback by the question, made no sign of his surprise. "It's strange, isn't it?" Harry continued, scrunching up his face in contemplation.

"Is it?"

"I asked you first…"

"And I am getting fed up with you talking back," Severus snapped. Forcing down a sigh at the boy's downcast eyes, Snape clenched his hands. "Come along, we must get to Professor Burbage." With that he spun around and exited the room, with Harry nipping at his heels.

"But, sir…" the boy continued, almost in a whinge, as they swept through the corridors and up the stairs.

"Harry."

"It's strange," he repeated, his face still in a thoughtful grimace.

"Perhaps."

"So what should I call you?"

"For now, you shall continue using my title," Snape replied, raising an eyebrow in the boy's direction. "Now run along to your lesson," he added as they arrived outside the designated classroom.

"But sir—"

"You are trying my patience, young man. We will discuss this further at lunch. Now go," he said once again, his voice low and stern. Harry, his ears warming, nodded mutely and entered the classroom. Charity Burbage looked up and smiled warmly at him.

"Harry, good morning. Let's get started straight away, shall we? We'll continue with multiplication, like last week. Did you do your numbers?"

* * *

><p>Sirius sat up in the hard bed in the Ministry quarters, feeling anything but rested. It had been perfectly impossible for him to sleep. The fact that he suddenly had a real bed had been far too overwhelming, and he hadn't been able to get comfortable at all. It was half past six in the morning, and he could hear the bustle of activity around him. Rising, he straightened the donated shirt, dusted off his clean trousers and looked himself in the mirror.<p>

He'd taken his first shower in years the previous night. Shaved, sheared most of his ruined hair off. He looked nothing like his old self, but it was still a mile better than how he'd looked right when he'd arrived from Azkaban. He almost shuddered at the thought, trying to dispel the image. Of course, he was still merely skin and bones, his cheek hollow and his eyes faded. But he was free. A free man. And that made all the difference.

* * *

><p>"Concentrate, Harry," Severus scolded as Harry dropped three spider eggs too many into the potion he was helping Snape with. Usually, during his Potions lessons, he had to read a lot, learn instructions, learn ingredients, learn how this reacted to that… But now and then, Snape would make a potion together with Harry. He said Harry was too young to make one all by himself, but that he would be allowed to try as soon as he managed to instruct Snape how to make a simple potion with no mistakes.<p>

"Sorry," the boy muttered as Snape banished the potion.

"We'll call it a day," the professor said heavily, waving his wand lazily, sending the cauldron and the remaining ingredients back to their appropriate places.

"Why couldn't Draco be here today?" Harry asked, having actually missed the blonde wizard.

"His father simply said that they had prior engagements," Snape answered vaguely, beckoning for the boy to follow him out of the classroom.

"Oh. Can we go outside after lunch?"

"I have work to do," was the curt answer Harry received as they entered their quarters, Snape shrugging off his robes before calling for food.

"I could go alone," the boy suggested hopefully as he scrambled onto his chair, gazing expectantly at his guardian. Snape snorted as he took his seat by one of the plates of recently-appeared food.

"Hardly. You are eight years old, Harry, and you are not leaving my sight. You'd be sure to get into all manners of naughty mischief." Harry huffed and viciously plunged his spoon into his soup. "_Harry_." He looked up at the curt rebuke, met the Potions Master's stern, dark eyes, and dropped his head again, eating slowly.

"But I've been good in all my lessons," Harry continued after a moment of subdued silence. "And I won't go far," he hurried to add when Snape looked like he'd kick into lecture mode. "I'll stay right by the apple trees all the time and then come in on time." There was a small throng of lush apple trees by the castle's west side, with blooming flowers and sturdy branches perfect for climbing in. Harry had admired said trees when walking with Snape or Hagrid through the grounds, and had been itching to take a closer look.

Snape felt no trust for the boy whatsoever. The son of James Potter would most likely wreak havoc in the castle within five seconds if left unsupervised. He didn't object to the boy having exercise, though. He had had far too little of it recently, as Snape had a lot of work, and was hard pressed to find someone who would mind the eight-year-old bundle of energy. He'd been toying with the idea of having Hooch teach him to fly, but had not yet spoken to the flying instructor.

"Not today," he said sternly. "We will go outside tomorrow," he added before he could stop himself, and the boy broke into a huge smile, soup dripping generously from his suspended spoon. "Now eat your lunch," he continued, nodding towards the bowl, before he resumed eating.

"What are you working on today?" Harry asked as he finished up his food, licking his lips to get rid of any remains.

"I have a meeting with the other Heads of Houses," Snape replied, rising and banishing the bowls and cutlery with a lazy flick of his right hand. "Now, I will have an elf check on you regularly. You could do some of your work, or play a bit, but do not leave the quarters. Understood?" Harry nodded. "I do believe you are familiar with the way in which I expect you to respond," Severus snapped sternly.

"Yes, sir," the boy nodded. "Understood."

"I will see you in a couple of hours." With that, he swept his robes out from underneath him and exited, the door thudding to a close behind him. Harry let out a disappointed sigh as he wandered in to his room, staring around him in boredom. _What am I supposed to do then? _he thought. _He's gone barmy if he thinks I'm going to do _schoolwork_ for the rest of the day _too_!_ Huffing, he left his room again, and thought hard for something else he might get up to, alone in the small quarters. Of course, he came up blank. Something very unfortunate for a restless boy of eight-almost-nine years.

* * *

><p>"I don't see how extending the curfew will do anything to improve the students' academic achievements," Snape drawled, lazily twirling his black quill.<p>

"It is a merely a suggestion," Dumbledore remarked soothingly, just as McGonagall said:

"It is more a question of how the older pupils might benefit from more time in the library."

"And do you really believe, Minerva, that the children will choose, voluntarily, to spend long evenings in the library?" Severs asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I don't see why we should choose to see only their mischievous sides," she replied, pursing her lips.

"And I don't see any reason for wishful thinking. They are children; giving them more time to roam the castle will only give them more room for naughtiness."

"Perhaps we ought to move on," Professor Flitwick piped up, gaining an approving nod from the Headmaster.

"Certainly, Filius."

As usual, the Potions Master felt like nothing had been accomplished at the end of the meeting, and so it was with some irritation that he followed the Headmaster to his office afterwards.

"Is this really necessary?" he enquired as they began their trek up the stairs.

"Naturally. We have some pressing matters we need to discuss." They arrived by the gargoyle, and upon being given the password, it leapt aside and allowed them to enter. "It concerns Harry. And Sirius. And, in effect, you," Dumbledore added as they sat down on either side of his massive, wooden desk.

"Black? There is news?" Severus asked, leaning forward ever so slightly.

"He is no longer a prisoner of Azkaban," Dumbledore replied pensively. "He was officially released yesterday evening, after signing the last documents, and spent the night in Ministry quarters. He was set into London this morning." Severus did not know quite what to think about this. Part of him was irritated that it proved the man he had always hated was in fact not guilty of murder. Additionally, he had legal right to adopt Harry.

"Where does this put Harry?" he asked, not adding (and, indeed, not needing to) "and me".

"As you know, Sirius is Harry's godfather, and therefore the 'rightful' guardian." Severus clenched his fists. "However," Dumbledore added; a small smile on his lips, "I have already begun the process of adoption in your name. The Ministry don't exactly like it, and I've had the Minister breathing down my neck about it for ages, but they haven't any valid objections for it, and Harry obviously feels right at home with you. Besides, they are not likely to award custody to a man who has been imprisoned for the past seven, almost eight, years." He fingered the chain in his beard for a moment. "I must add, though, Severus, that it is not a done deal yet. Also… If you do adopt Harry, Sirius _will_ be a part of his growing up. I will not have you alienating Harry from his godfather." He spoke in an uncharacteristically hard voice, one Severus recognised all too well. The matter was non-negotiable.

"I see. When will this be sealed?"

"Saturday, at noon. Oh, and Severus, one more thing."

"Headmaster."

"Sirius must be there. He must sign his consent."

* * *

><p>Harry stared down at the grass, swinging his legs back and forth slowly, in rhythm with the branch he was sitting on. He hadn't been out there for long, but he knew he'd better go inside soon, lest Snape return to their quarters and find it empty. With a sigh, he slid forward and let himself drop to the ground, landing quietly. Dusting off his seat and righting his glasses, he took one more glance up towards the branched of the apple tree he'd been sitting in. It was a nice, sturdy tree, with plenty of good and sturdy branches; perfect for climbing. He'd make sure Snape took him there when they went outside the following day, although he couldn't picture Snape climbing trees. A giggle escaped him at the thought. He turned his back on the trees and jogged back around the castle, up the stairs and in through the heavy doors. Peering around each corner he turned, he made sure no one was around. Finding the last staircase deserted, he trotted down them and made his way to the door to their dungeon quarters. He entered quietly, and closed the door carefully behind him.<p>

"And where do you think you have been?" He jumped at the voice, and spun around to find Snape sitting at his desk, his face bowed over a piece of parchment. The boy bit his lip and wrung his hands slightly.

"Uh." The older wizard looked up and gave Harry the sternest look the boy had ever received; he squirmed under it. The Potions Master snorted and rose, walking around his desk and stopping in front of the boy, clasping his hands behind his back.

"A proper answer if you please. And stand straight when I'm talking to you." Harry straightened quickly, dropped his hands to his sides.

"I was just outside," he whispered, staring at Snape's polished black shoes. A long, pale finger tipped his head back so he was forced to meet Severus' stern gaze.

"What did I tell you before I left?"

"To stay here," Harry replied, recognising that answering truthfully would be the only way to go in a situation like this. _I have _the_ most rotten luck in all the world…_

"So you knowingly, _wilfully_, disobeyed me? I am tiring of your constant lack of respect for the rules young man. This _will_ stop."

"Yes sir," Harry nodded vigorously. The older man let the boy's face go and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe your promises, after all the times you've disobeyed me despite them? I'm afraid not, young man." He spun around, pulled out his desk chair, and sat down. "Come here." Harry, even though this had never happened to him before, knew what Snape planned on doing. His breath hitched and he struggled against tears.

"Please, sir, I'll…" He didn't know what to say. Snape had already said he wouldn't believe any of his promises. "I'm sorry, really."

"Come here. _Now_," was the only reply he received. Slowly, he made his way over to his guardian, stopping in front of him, uncertain. "You will learn to do as you're told," he said firmly. Harry only nodded mutely. Suppressing a sigh, Snape took hold of the boy's hand and placed him across his lap. He'd known the child would eventually press him to firmly correct his behaviour; an eight-year-old boy was the epitome of mischief. With a hand on Harry's back, he pulled down the boy's trousers.

Harry, for his part, was still fighting tears. He wanted to kick and scream and protest. He didn't want a spanking! It was so unfair! Snape kept him locked inside all day and he'd only wanted to go outside for a little bit, and it hadn't done any harm at all! He felt his trousers being lowered and grabbed hold of his guardian's robe in anticipation. The first swat took him by surprise, and he almost bit himself in the tongue.

"I understand that you feel claustrophobic in here, Harry, but you _cannot_ go outside without permission," Snape lectured after a couple of swats. "From now on, you _will_ do as you're told, or you'll be right back in this position again." Harry hoped he wasn't supposed to answer, because there was no way. He yelped his way through the last of the ten smacks, continued crying even as Snape's hand had stopped falling. After a few moments, he felt the Potions Master's hands under his arms, lifting him up and righting his clothes as he stood in front of him. "Going out like that was very naughty, Harry. Never again, do you hear me?"

"Y-yes sir," Harry hiccoughed. "I'm s-sorry." Snape palmed the back of the boy's head, and Harry fell into the embrace for a few minutes. Procuring a handkerchief, Snape carefully dried Harry's tears away.

"Head to your room now. Off you go," Snape said, nudging the boy into a standing position and turning him in the right direction.

Harry closed the door to his room behind him, and rubbed his bum as he tried to stem his tears. He could hardly imagine ever going through that again. _It still stings_, he thought miserably, lying down on his stomach on the bed. He tried to decide whether or not going out to the trees had been worth it. After contemplating the situation for a while, he angrily decided no, it hadn't. _It was no fun alone anyway. Should've had Snape there._


	15. A Furious Dog

**Yay, finally! So happy I got this up; I wrote literally 3/4 of this tonight. Writing angry Sirius was so entertaining, and frustrating. I felt for him, so badly. **_Is it weird that I wanted to cry okay never mind._

**Sorry for the cliffie-type ending; what can I say? I'm all for a bit of excitement ;) Please do tell me if you find any mistake or such.**

**Oh and yes, I've taken some liberties with the whole adoption thing; I've no clue how it would play out, so I just went along with what felt right and proper at the time. And I'm rather proud of my including Tiberius, haha.**

**Enough rambling; I hope you enjoy it, and please review!**

**Ivy**

* * *

><p>Snape sat down heavily on the couch, and placed his face in his hands. Finding his quarters empty had scared him. Properly scared him, in a way he had not been scared for years. Forcing himself into rational thinking, dispelling all images of Sirius coming to kidnap Harry, he had tracked the boy with a few simple spells. Finding him by the trees, just jumping down to return, he'd calmed considerably, and decided to wait where he was. Wait for the child to come to him. And as soon as he heard Harry come in through the door, his worry had transformed into anger with him; of all the nerve, the little brat went outside even though he had, point blank, told him to stay put. Then and there he made up his mind: the boy needed a firm reprimand.<p>

Contrary to the general opinion of Professor Snape, he wasn't really one to opt for such a punishment. He found that the more intimidating he could be using only words, the better. The students needed a healthy fear, especially with all the other teachers mollycoddling them into oblivion. He snorted, thinking of Professor McGonagall. Though strict, granted, she had a soft spot, a weakness, for her Gryffindors. _One would have thought she'd be a bit more subtle_, Severus thought, thinking of his Slytherins. Yes, he probably did favour them. However, as all of them knew, should they end up in trouble, Snape was the one to watch out for. Unlike McGonagall, he tended to be harder on his own students. Which brought him back to his earlier thought: why had he reacted with Harry as he would have with his snakes? The boy may be in his care, but he was a Gryffindor if he'd ever seen one: the child was practically painted in maroon and gold.

He shook his head: if he were to adopt this boy, he needed to sort himself out. Refraining from huffing irritably, he stood up and straightened his robes before heading for Harry's room. In a mere few days he would become, legally, the boy's father. _I'd better not have frightened him out his wits_, he mused with a small smirk.

* * *

><p>Harry lay on his side on his bed, swiping occasionally at his nose. Upon entering his room, he'd discarded his glasses immediately, as they only fogged up anyway. The pain in his behind had dulled considerably; though it was uncomfortable to lie on his back, it was endurable when on his side. Flipping the pillow over, he accessed the cool cotton, encasing half his face in it, and fell into a light slumber.<p>

Sometime later (not much, Harry guessed), he heard footsteps approaching his door. Distinct ones that he knew belonged to his guardian. Part of him wanted to scramble off the bed and put his glasses on in an effort to appear presentable, but the other half (and, ultimately, the winning one), felt far too exhausted. He simply stared at the door and waited until it was opened from the outside.

Severus stepped inside, his expression not changing in the slightest when he spotted the child on the bed. Entering, leaving the door open, he grabbed the boy's desk chair and brought it up to the side of the bed before sitting down. With his hands loosely clasped on his lap, he observed the boy. Harry, embarrassed under the scrutiny, wriggled a bit and looked away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered eventually, since Snape seemed adamant not to be the first to speak.

"So you've said," Snape replied evenly, his gaze not wavering. "We need to have a discussion." Harry felt his face grow warm. "Sit up." The order was quiet but effective: Harry obeyed instantly, pushing himself up and grabbing his glasses. "What you did was foolish, and, more to the point, potentially dangerous. I do not prevent you from venturing outside because I find pleasure in having you miserable." _Well…_ "Sirius Black, though innocent of the crimes for which he was convicted, will want to get in contact with you." _And I wouldn't put it past him to grab the child and run, should he be given the opportunity. _

"But why can't I speak with him?" Harry asked, wondering why Snape was going on and on. "If he's good, then I want to talk to him," he added, a small frown; a mixture of discontent and confusion.

"With that tone, you won't be speaking to anyone for a while," Snape immediately reprimanded. Harry, blushing, averted his gaze, but kept his frown. "You will meet Black." Lightening, Harry snapped his head back to face Severus. "I will be adopting you this weekend," he continued, in a decidedly more sombre voice. "And because Black is your godfather, he has to consent."

"You're adopting me?!" _The child obviously does not realise that his damn godfather's release complicates things_, Snape thought with more than a little irritation.

"Yes; we've spoken about this, multiple times, I believe. You cannot honestly still sound this surprised about it. But Harry…" Gaining the boy's full attention once more, Snape looked him firmly in the eye. "This is going to be tricky because of Black's release. He will want custody of you." Harry looked torn.

"But… But you're adopting me."

"Yes I am."

"But if he's my godfather… But I don't know him… But he knew my dad, and my mum." The confusion was evident in Harry's voice, and he stared imploringly at Snape, as if he would say a few words which would immediately clear things up.

Of course, adopting Harry shouldn't be a problem. Because he had temporary guardianship, and had now known the child for over a month, the Ministry would see him as a more fitting choice. However, James and Lily's wish would be difficult to override, despite the fact that Sirius had been in prison for years.

"Harry I know this is odd, but I need to ask you a question. And you would do well to answer it truthfully," he added sternly.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied shyly.

"Do you like living here?" Harry considered this. He didn't like the Dursley's. And he couldn't remember living with his parents, so he supposed (albeit painfully) that they didn't count. Of course, he thought Snape was far too strict all the time and he didn't smile enough, but, comparatively, yes, he did like living there.

"Yeah, I do," he nodded quietly.

"Would you rather live here than with Black?" Snape pressed on.

"But sir, I don't know my godfather. I… I dunno."

"And should the Ministry award him custody, you'd have to move in and live with him immediately, regardless of whether or not you know him," Snape commented, aware of the fact that he was being biased in this statement. Had he had his way, he'd have been even more so; anything to prevent Black from getting the child. But he knew it would be too obvious come Saturday. Besides, Dumbledore had demanded that Sirius be involved in Harry's growing up if Severus was awarded custody; no sense in having Harry hate him if that was the case.

Harry's eyes grew large.

"Really? Just like that?"

"Rather so, yes." Severus paused for a moment before he continued: "Should you stay here… Black will visit occasionally. He is your… godfather, after all. You ought to have… time. With him." This made Harry smile once more.

"So I can live here with you, but still see Sirius sometimes?" Severus nodded in agreement. "Wicked."

"The Headmaster has informed me that the official adoption will take place on Saturday, to be precise." Harry gaped in surprise. When Snape had said "this weekend", he hadn't really listened. "I will confess that I would have liked more time for preparations, but no matter." He added the last part more to himself than his charge.

"But that's only two days away!"

"One, really," Snape muttered and stood up. "I will send for dinner in an hour," he continued, straightening his immaculate shirt. "Start on some of your homework now." Harry grimaced, but refused to give Snape any new ammunition against him, and so he, too, rose, making a show of how painful it was to walk over to his desk. Severus snorted, heading for the door. "Do cease your childish antics, or I'll give you something to be really sorry about." Harry bit down on his lip and scurried over to his chair, scrambling onto it. "How kind of you to follow instructions for once, Mr Potter," Snape said sardonically, just as he crossed the threshold and disappeared into the hallway. Harry made a face after him. "_Work_, young man," Snape called, somehow knowing just what Harry was doing. Sighing irritably, the boy sat properly on his chair and pulled out his English homework.

* * *

><p>"Harry, my boy, how perfectly marvellous to see you!" Harry looked up at the bearded Headmaster, who was beaming and twinkling madly down at him, and smiled tentatively.<p>

"Hello sir," he replied, somewhat shyly, trying not to make it _too_ obvious he was edging closer to Snape's side.

"Are you excited for today?" Dumbledore continued, though he was looking at Snape, having some sort of silent conversation. Harry unintentionally wove his hands into Snape's robes.

"Uh huh," he nodded, trying not to chew his lip.

"Wonderful."

They were waiting outside one of the court rooms, and there were several witches and wizards there, people that Harry did not know, but were looking strangely at him now and then, whispering amongst them. He'd asked Snape about it when they'd arrived, and his guardian had merely told him to ignore them.

"Some people, the very nerve," he'd muttered afterwards, but Harry supposed he wasn't meant to have heard that, so he didn't react.

Suddenly, Dumbledore's eyes left Snape's and travelled over his shoulder, and he once again broke into his large, friendly smile.

"Sirius, it has been too long." Snape spun around, pulling Harry with him as he faced Sirius.

Harry looked intently at the man. He looked gaunt and drawn, a bit undernourished, and his skin was pale. But his eyes, although severe, looked kind and gentle, his long dark hair glistening in the scant light. He was wearing robes just as fine as Dumbledore's, and almost as dark as Snape's, but somehow, they looked handsome on him, despite his slight frame. His eyes met Harry's, and he broke into a large grin, showing a row of white teeth.

"Albus," he nodded politely to Dumbledore, completely enthralled by the little boy he was soon standing a mere three feet away from. Crouching down to the boy's eye level, still smiling, he held out his hand. "Hello Harry. I'm Sirius, your godfather." Harry took the offered hand and shook it, though still standing pressed against Snape's side.

"Hello sir," Harry replied, berating himself for sounding so little.

"Just Sirius," the man nodded, placing a gentle hand on the boy's head. "Just Sirius," he added, almost in a whisper, and Harry thought he looked almost like he wanted to cry. After a few moments, he straightened again. "Severus."

"Black." Harry thought Snape sounded unnecessarily cross, but didn't dare comment on it.

"Albus, may I have a word?" Sirius asked suddenly. Though itching to embrace Harry and cry with joy and relief, he knew doing so would infuriate the Potions Master, and perhaps frighten the boy.

"Certainly, Sirius. We have a few minutes." Holding out his arm, he led Sirius away. Harry watched them go, wondering how on Earth people could ever think Sirius had killed anyone at all.

"How could this happen?" Sirius hissed as they were out of earshot. "Snape? Are you out of your mind, old man?!" Dumbledore regarded his former student solemnly.

"I do believe it is a rather perfect match."

"Severus hated James! He may have been Lily's friend, but I am his _godfather_. How could you do this to me?" Once again, the newly released prisoner of Azkaban looked close to tears, and his clenched fists were shaking with grief and disappointment.

"Believe me, Sirius, it was not a decision I made lightly," the Headmaster responded quietly. "You weren't around when Harry needed it. I know you could not have been, but Severus was. And he knew Lily. Harry needed that connection to his mother."

"And what about his father? Snape will no doubt taint the boy's memory of James Potter forever!"

"Snape is not the same man you remember. Harry has been in his care many weeks now, and they have grown quite fond of each other. I know you love Harry, and I am certain he will love you in return, but Severus is his guardian." Losing the fight against his tears, Sirius heaved a great, large breath as a few drops welled over the rims of his eyes. Irritated, he tried to dry them away, biting down hard. The older wizard carefully lay his arm around the younger's shoulders. "I know you don't want this. It pains me to see you hurt this way, but Sirius, I would never have allowed this to happen had I believed that Harry would not be well off with Severus."

"You allowed the child to stay cooped up with those horrendous Muggles for most of his life!" Sirius exploded, shrugging off the comforting arm. "How am I supposed to accept this? Severus and I never saw eye to eye; when I was released from that damned place the first thing that crossed my mind was that I'd be able to take Harry home. _Home,_ Albus, are you familiar with the concept? Home is not with a man who despised his father. _He is my godson_," he added in a hiss, positively shaking with suppressed rage.

"Sirius, Harry wants to be with Severus," Dumbledore said, opting not to answer Sirius' rather rhetorical question. "The boy has been longing to see you, but when asked, he has told us, several times, he wants to live with Severus." The pain that flickered through Sirius' eyes was unmistakable, and he suddenly looked a bit smaller, like he was cowering away from something; Albus felt almost disgusted at what he was doing, but he had no choice. As much as he loved and trusted Sirius, he was not ready to allow Harry into his care. Although he had not been obviously affected by the Dementors, eight years of imprisonment changed a person. Sirius had just been released, and it was most likely that these changes would not manifest themselves until in a few weeks or months' time.

Albus observed Sirius fight with himself for a few moments, before the younger man promptly turned around and walked away from him. Conveniently enough, an elderly wizard of the Wizengamot opened the door, and led everyone into the courtroom. To both Albus' and Severus' chagrin, there were several reporters present. Unfortunately, not much could be done about this; it concerned The Boy Who Lived, being adopted by a known former Death Eater, an event that required said boy's godfather's consent. If anyone could possibly dream up a more awkward meeting, Severus was ready to applaud them.

As the press, guests, Wizengamot and involved parties took their respective seats, Harry grew increasingly nervous. He had seen Sirius have a rather heated argument with the Headmaster, and though he knew the man wasn't really dangerous, he'd been rather frightened. Holding Severus' hand, he'd been led to his seat and they were now waiting for the whole thing to begin. Snape had explained to him that the Ministry wanted to make a huge deal of it, hence the courtroom and press and whatnot, rather than just a small meeting.

They were sitting at a large round table; Harry, Severus, Sirius, Dumbledore, the Minister, Millicent Bagnold, the old wizard from the Wizengamot as well as a woman from the Socials department.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," said the Minister dully. "We are convening today to discuss and seal the matter of the adoption of Mr Harry Potter, by Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts school." She had a very business-like voice, Harry thought, and supposed it came with the job. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties, but sounded very tired. _She must work a lot_, he figured. "Present to see over the adoption, as well as give consent, are myself, Minister for Magic; Miss Julie Stoker of the Socials department, Professor Severus Snape, Mr Sirius Black, Professor Albus Dumbledore and Mr Tiberius Ogden, representing the Wizengamot, as its Chief Warlock, Professor Dumbledore, is a biased party in this matter." Harry found it rather pointless to tell everyone what they already knew_; I mean, everyone can see who's here_. Dumbledore seemed to smile sadly at being called biased. Harry wasn't sure what that meant, but he'd remember to ask Snape about it afterwards.

The Minister proceeded to ask Ogden, the elderly man, to place all the documents out on the table. And then, the Socials woman, Miss Stoker, spoke.

"I would just like to ask Harry a few questions before we get on with the signing," she said, smiling sweetly at Harry. Having been in Snape's care for some time, that sort of sickening smile made him want to grimace, but he refrained, knowing that, even know Snape probably despised the smile too, he'd want Harry to behave himself. So instead, he simply nodded mutely. "Do you like Professor Snape?" Harry nodded again. "I'm going to need a proper answer, sweetheart." Blushing, Harry cleared his throat quietly.

"Yes Miss, I do."

"And do you feel like you're treated kindly when living with him?"

"Yes Miss."

"Do you feel like you receive all the attention you need?"

"Yes Miss." Harry felt rather monotonous with his repeated answer, but really could not find any other suitable reply.

"Has Professor Snape ever been upset with you?" Blushing at his most recent infraction, Harry had no choice but to nod in affirmative.

"Yes," he whispered.

"What for, dear?"

"Miss Stoker, I really don't think this is necessary," Snape drawled. "Can't you see you're making the boy uncomfortable? Yes, Harry has misbehaved on occasion, just like any other eight-year-old."

"Thank you, professor, but I believe I was addressing Harry," the woman smiled briefly at Snape, before returning her attention to Harry. "Well?"

"I went outside when I wasn't supposed to."

"Were you grounded?" Harry wrinkled his nose.

"Not really."

"And what did Professor Snape do?" Harry had no idea whether or not to lie. It was so embarrassing, and he was terrified of saying something wrong. Severus, spotting the child's nerves and embarrassment, placed a comforting hand on the child's back.

"He was a bit angry with me. He…"

"Did he punish you?" Harry nodded. "How?" Blushing a deep red, Harry glanced up at the woman through his fringe, praying she wouldn't make him say it. Somehow catching on, her face sobered. "I see," she said stiffly. Glancing over at the Minister, she seemed disappointed that no one else seemed to object. "I see. But you are happy with Professor Snape?"

"Yes Miss, I said so, didn't I?" Harry replied, frowning. He felt Snape's hand stiffen on his back and caught the silent warning. "Sorry."

"No matter. All right, thank you." She leaned back in her chair, and remained silent.

"Wonderful," said Tiberius Ogden. "Well I have no objections so if the Minister concedes, why not continue with the actual signing?" Parchment was shuffled around, quills and ink appearing out of nowhere.

"We will begin with Professor Snape," the Minister announced, ceremonially pushing the documents over to Snape, who reached for the offered quill. "On the lines, if you please." Nodding curtly, Severus' eyes scanned the dense text, the silence in the room absolutely deafening its occupants. After a couple of minutes, he nodded to himself, dipped the quill in the deep blue ink and signed his name in the required places before laying down the quill. "Professor Dumbledore, if you would." Smiling gaily, Dumbledore took the quill next, and signed his long name without so much as looking at the actual document. "Thank you sir. And Mr Black, would you…" The documents were placed in front of Sirius, the quill in his hand. He stared down at the two existing signatures, the words of the agreement blurring. The little ink on the tip of the quill was rapidly drying, and the room was still deadly quiet, waiting anxiously for him, for his signature. He had said nothing for the past few minutes, merely watched as if he was not actually experiencing this. It can't be, there is no way… Without really realising it, he placed the quill on the table, and stood up.

"I do not consent to this adoption, and I will thus not be signing this document. Good day." And with that, he swept out of the room.


	16. No ice cream

**It's me, and I'm alive!**

**So, as has been written on my profile for the past couple of months, I've been dreadfully busy with everything from school to debates. This chapter has been brewing for months and months, and really did not want to be written, partially because it is a sort of transition. Hence, I do apolgse if it is not the epic, adventurous chapter you had been hoping for. In any case, it's an update, and I hope people haven't lost hope entirely.**

**I can't say how long it will be 'til I update again; I will be travelling to Belgium** for a debate** in a couple of weeks, and then I have exams. But as I have said many times: the story is not abandoned, nor will I say it's on a hiatus. I simply need more time to complete chapters with the work I have.**

**Hope everyone's well, and please let me know what you've all been up to in my absence!**

**Lots of love,**

**Ivy**

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><p>As soon as the large, wooden doors banged shut behind the irate Sirius Black, the room erupted in voices; surprised, smug and aghast alike. Harry, who didn't even know the man, felt oddly betrayed. He'd liked Sirius when they'd first met; he'd smiled kindly and been really gentle to him. And Snape had explained a few days earlier that Sirius wouldn't be happy about him – Severus – adopting Harry, but he'd never thought he wouldn't consent. From the looks of it, neither did anyone else.<p>

Severus Snape looked like he'd just swallowed a swelling solution; he's face and body were rigid, and his breathing rapid. His eyes were trained on Dumbledore, and they once again seemed to be having a conversation meant for them only. Harry tugged at Severus' robes.

"Professor?" he said, his voice cracking. Snape's head twisted around and looked down at Harry, a small frown in place.

"We need to leave," he said as a form of answer, and stood up without waiting for Harry to respond. Placing a hand carefully but firmly on the back of Harry's neck, he urged the child to rise, and as soon as he was on his feet, he was led out of the room, long before any of the reporters or gathered guests had time to catch up with them.

Through the corridor they hurried, Professor Dumbledore some way behind them, all the way to the lifts. Not daring to wait for Dumbledore, for fear that some nosey wench from the Prophet would catch up, Severus stabbed at a button, and the lift clanked into movement. Looking down, he was met by a pair of large, worried, emerald eyes.

"We will speak when we get back to Hogwarts," Severus declared curtly, his anger at the situation rather evident in his terse mannerisms. Harry nodded and bit his lip. How had things gone downhill so quickly? Ever since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, everyone had acted as though there would be no problem for Snape to adopt Harry. And here they were, journalists hot on their heels and nowhere closer to the formal adoption than Harry had been when living at the Dursley's.

As the lift rocked to a halt, they continued through the atrium, many of the Ministry officials glancing curiously at their hasty walk. Stopping for a mere second at the Floo, Severus irritably flung a handful of Floo powder into the flames and barked;

"Hogwarts!"

Seconds later they were deposited in Dumbledore's office, and Severus finally let go of the child.

"What happened?" Harry asked. Indeed, he had been there, but nevertheless he was still rather confused. Could Sirius' refusal really mean that Snape couldn't adopt him? It all seemed rather daft to him; why should one man be able to veto a decision made by at least another ten wizards and witches? He watched as his guardian unscrewed a bottle of a dark amber liquid, pouring the smallest of splashes into a glass and drinking it all up in one go. The tumbler placed safely on the Headmaster's desk, Severus seemed to deflate as he closed his eyes for a moment.

As Harry waited for Snape to return to the present, the fireplace roared to life once again, spitting out the Headmaster, who looked equally as put out as Severus. The boy nibbled on his bottom lip, scared of the serious tension in the air. Snape, lifting his head as he heard Dumbledore step through, immediately frowned.

"What in the name of Salazar Slytherin just happened?" he demanded, echoing the little boy's earlier question (albeit with certain additions), his voice still terribly cross. Dumbledore did not reply, but took a deep breath before walking around the desk and slumping down into his grand chair.

"I don't know Severus," he replied, and Harry found his heart beating faster. Although he hadn't known Dumbledore for very long, he could sense that this sentence, from this particular wizard, was very unusual. Dumbledore was, to him, and many others, a source for any and all wisdom, and to have him declare confusion and ignorance so openly was almost like someone smashing up one's favourite possession; positively heart-breaking.

The Potions master slammed his hand into the heavy wooden desk, making Harry jump with fright, and Professor Dumbledore smile sadly.

"Damn it, Albus, you'll have to give me more than that!" he exploded, his lank hair hanging in his face, as it often did when the man was in deep distress. Harry, standing diagonally behind his guardian, didn't know to say, or do. He stood quietly, wringing his hands, his worried, emerald eyes scurrying from one professor to the other.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, pleadingly, quietly, and somehow managed to calm the younger wizard down considerably. Standing up straight, Snape yanked his robes into immaculate order, and twitched his head in silent command to Harry. The boy hurried over, and sat down in the chair indicated by his guardian. Snape summoned another one from the fireplace and seated himself in it, gingerly placing his fingertips together and staring over them at his long-time mentor. "Of course I can't explain it," the elderly man elaborated. "As much as I wish this wasn't the case, I am not capable of steering people to do what I want if they are entirely opposed to the idea." Snape snorted incredulously, but Dumbledore merely kept his sad smile in place and remained silent. Huffing in annoyance, Snape shifted in his chair. Dumbledore's raised eyebrow was almost unnoticeable.

"Um…" Both men turned to Harry at this utterance, and the boy blushed, for some unfathomable reason. "Can… I mean, can someone explain what—"

"You heard the Headmaster," Severus instantly chided him. "We don't know."

"Come now, Severus," Dumbledore hurried to say, smiling comfortingly at Harry. "The boy is understandably confused." Snape held Harry's gaze for a moment, before the boy looked away. Sighing, the head of Slytherin House closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face.

"It is difficult to say, at this point, what is going to happen," Snape amended in a comparatively soft voice (as soft as the former Death Eater would ever allow himself to sound).

"But I don't understand," Harry confessed, his hands still tightly clenched around each other. Reaching over, Snape's pale, cold fingers wrapped around Harry's hands, and gently untangled them. Once freed, Harry almost smiled, and opted for sitting on his hands instead.

"What don't you understand, my boy?" Dumbledore enquired jovially, somehow forgetting the disaster that had just taken place at the Ministry.

"How could Sirius do that?" he enquired, his brow crumpling. "And why does he get to decide? He doesn't know me," he added firmly. Harry liked Sirius, but he wasn't daft. He didn't know Sirius, even though Sirius had been good friends with his parents.

"Your godfather is upset, Harry," Dumbledore started explaining calmly, ignoring the clenching of Severus' jaw. "While in prison, he was convinced that once he was released, he would be given custody of you. He loves you like you were his own son." Harry's brow furrowed further.

"But then why didn't he understand… I mean, Snape—"

"Professor Snape."

"_Professor_ Snape knows me," Harry continued. "Didn't anyone explain that to Sirius?" Dumbledore smiled sadly.

"We tried." Harry chewed his bottom lip in an attempt to make sense of it all, but no matter how hard he tried, no matter how we twisted and turned the situation, he could not seem to understand it. Finally giving up, he heaved a deep sigh and slumped back in the chair, utterly dejected.

"Do I have to go back to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia now?" he asked fearfully after a few moments. Surprisingly, the Potions Master was quicker to offer reassurances than the kindly Headmaster.

"No, Harry, you don't. Despite the fact that I am not legally your father I am still your guardian and you are going nowhere." Even Dumbledore was surprised at the word 'father' escaping the younger wizard's lips, completely without malice or contempt. It was the first time he had truly spoken of it.

"As Severus says," Dumbledore filled in as the other two broke eye contact to look at the elderly man, "you will remain here at Hogwarts until we know what will happen next. I daresay we departed so quickly we were not given a date for a second meeting."

"A second meeting?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore affirmed. "We will of course push for the adoption anyway." The Headmaster met Severus' eyes and they seemed to have one of their non-verbal exchanges. Harry huffed, and was immediately settled down by a sharp look from his guardian. "For the time being, Sirius has the last say. However, there are certain… Arguments we can put forward," Dumbledore continued, Snape's eyes trained on him as if he, Dumbledore, were about to explode.

"That's enough," said Severus finally, rising, and indicating that Harry do the same. "It's high time we head back to our quarters. Harry ought to rest."

"But I'm not tired, I just—"

"Rest," Severus interrupted. He pointed at the door. "Head downstairs; I'll be right behind you." For a moment, the boy looked like he was about to protest, but when he met his guardian's eyes, he decided not to push his luck. Sighing, he turned around and trotted for the door; the older men heard his trainer-clad feet pad down the stairs, and his voice was muffled as it greeted the gargoyle outside the door.

"He needn't know," Severus told Dumbledore firmly when he was certain his charge was well out of earshot. "He is a little… boy, he doesn't need…"

"Severus, I think we can both agree that despite his age, he has experienced more than any child ever ought to," Dumbledore answered quietly, as was his custom.

"Damn his experiences!" Severus exploded, slamming his hand into the top of the desk once more, sending several small, silver trinkets to the ground. Dumbledore, not fazed by this outburst, merely regarded the younger wizard with sad interest. "Curiosity killed the cat, Dumbledore," Severus hissed, running a hand down his face yet again. "Let me… Please… Just let me deal with it." Remaining silent for a moment, Dumbledore eventually sighed, almost inaudibly.

"Very well." Straightening, Severus performed his customary tug-of-the-cuffs to sort himself out, allowed himself to run his hand through his hair one last time, before he turned and left the room without so much as another glance at his old mentor. The remains of the fire crackled in the hearth as Dumbledore stared into the space in front of him, the two younger wizards out of sight and earshot. Closing his eyes, he repressed the urge to place his face in his hands.

* * *

><p>The corridors were draughty, more so than usual, as the Potions Master walked down the corridors, lost in thought. It was almost as though he was under an Imperius curse, the way he walked, seemingly without the slightest worry about where is was going. He knew all right. And he was still warring with himself about how to deal with the situation which awaited him.<p>

He had meant what he'd said to the Headmaster. _Curiosity killed the cat_. At the same time, the boy did have a certain right to know what was going on, as much as it disgusted him to have to admit it, even just to himself. On the one hand, if he explained everything to the boy, there was bound to be more questions. Naïve questions, those he could handle, but impudent ones, which were sure to follow, he wasn't too keen on. On the other hand, if he did not relent and simply allowed the boy to live in ignorance, there would, without a doubt, be in increase in frequency of Harry's bouts of misbehaviour. He could not decide which he preferred.

Reaching his quarters, he flicked his wand to open the door. As the slab of wood swung open, Severus had to bite his tongue not to swear loudly.

"_Harry James Potter!"_

Harry, who had been dawdling along the corridors, taking a detour to get himself time to think, stiffened at the foreboding shout of his name. He hadn't thought that Snape would be so quick to leave the Headmaster's. He'd thought Snape would stay there for at least another twenty minutes or so, and had thus decided that it'd be safe to take a slightly longer walk. Evidently, he had been wrong, and with anxious butterflies in the pit of his stomach he broke into a run, barrelling down the stairs and eventually skidded to a halt in front of his guardian, perhaps three minutes later. With a swat to his backside, he was sent into the living room before the door was shut with an ominous click.

"Do you wish to get your backside tanned tonight, son, or were you simply being obtuse?" Snape thundered the minute the door was closed. Harry winced, not having realised Severus was _quite_ that irritated until that moment.

"Sorry sir," he croaked. "Can I just explain!" he hurried to add, as Snape looked no less enraged.

"I don't know, can you?" Snape hissed.

"_May_ I," Harry was quick to amend, forcing himself not to fidget.

"You may. In fact, if you don't try explain, you'll be over my lap in the next five seconds."

"I just needed to clear my head. I promise, sir, I really do. I was on my way but I just took an extra round on the third floor before heading down the stairs. I swear, I wasn't going anywhere I just wanted to try and get a grip of the situation—"

"All right, all right," Snape sighed, sinking into his armchair, his anger completely drained in the course of five seconds. "Sit down." Harry, eager to follow instructions, hurried over to the couch and bounced into his regular seat, pressing himself into the corner. "Listen Harry, we don't know what's happening. We will try again with this, and hopefully the Ministry will allow us the adoption without your godfather's consent."

"Why would they do that later if they didn't do it now?" the boy enquired, confused.

"We can plead that Bl—Sirius is not mentally stable," Severus said calmly, seeing the disapproval in the boy's eyes.

"Sirius is not mentally unstable," the boy murmured, torn between the desire to please his guardian and his wish to protect his godfather.

"As much as you mightn't want to admit it, your godfather is not exactly entirely sane at the moment. He's been locked up for almost eight years, obviously he is not the man he once was." _And thank Salazar for it_, he added to himself.

"He hasn't changed. He knew my parents." Snape failed to see the logic in this, but decided, for once, that he would not correct or question the boy for it.

"How about some lunch?" he said instead, abruptly leaving the topic in favour of something more (the horror) domestic.

"Lunch? _Lunch_?" Harry blurted out, incredulous. "How can I think about _lunch_ when my future—"

"Cease your melodramatic ranting," Snape broke in, rising to call the house elves for some food.

"But _Sna-ape_!" the boy whinged, rising and trailing after his guardian, nipping at his heels like a forlorn puppy.

"If you do not quieten right this instant you can spend the next fifteen minutes in the corner."

"But—"

"_Harry_."

"Fine." The boy resisted the urge to stomp his foot and instead trudged back to the couch.

"Mind your attitude." The boy didn't acknowledge the remark, but simply stared down at his trainers, irritated at the perfect knots of the laces. _Too tidy_, he thought. _Just like Snape_.

"Can we have ice cream?" he found himself calling to the professor after a moment, as he heard the man shuffling papers on his desk.

"Ice cr—" Snape broke off, realising he'd almost let down his placid façade. "No, we will not have ice cream," he continued almost immediately, frowning at the slouching boy on the sofa.

"Why?"

"Because we don't have any," Snape replied curtly, aware of how ridiculous a notion that was. If the boy asked the elves for ice cream, they'd have fifteen tons of it within minutes.

"What sort of people don't have ice cream?" Harry asked, looking at his guardian with a frown on his small forehead.

"I'm growing tired of your endless chattering," Snape said, shutting a desk drawer with considerable force, pleased to see the boy's nervous twitch at the sound. "Table, now." The boy got up, and made his way to the table a bit slower than normally, but not quite slowly enough to earn him a rebuke. The Potion's Master seethed. "You are treading on very thin ice, young man," he bit out as he, too, sat down at the table, just as the food appeared. The boy looked down, hiding his reddening cheeks, but still feeling irritated and rebellious enough to not reply.

They ate in silence. Harry's feet did not swing as they normally did during meals, and Snape did not chide the boy as he usually did when the boy held his fork in the wrong hand. All that could be heard was cutlery against plates and the ticking from Snape's desk clock.


	17. Bloody dirty tricks

**I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am that I haven't updated sooner. There's just been far too much going on, particularly now with my applying to university and doing a lot of work in the European Youth Parliament.**

**Anyway, amid all this work I found time to finish up this chapter. I'm afraid it's not all too eventful, but it gets along.**

**Hope you're still out there!**

**Ivy**

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><p>"Sna-ape!"<p>

The Potion's Master closed his eyes briefly and took a couple of deep breaths, holding the tip of his quill above the parchment upon which he had been writing a letter. He refused to answer such an insolent call, and would absolutely not indulge in a cross-room screaming match. Drawing one more deep breath, he dipped the quill in the ink once again, and scratched on.

"_Sna-a-ape!"_ Pushing the tip down too hard, it broke through the fragile parchment, and soiled the entire letter. With slow hands, Snape placed the quill in its stand, capped the inkbottle and rose. With a flick of his wand, he heard a surprised shriek a couple of rooms away and in a few seconds, an outraged Harry was being dragged by an invisible force, holding onto his shirt collar, into the room.

"Might I remind you," Severus began, raising one eyebrow at the boy who was still being held onto by the spell cast by his guardian, "that despite what happened a couple of days ago, I am still your legal guardian, and if you continue to fail to show me proper respect, I assure you that the consequences will be most unpleasant." Harry, looking suitably abashed, squirmed a bit. Another flick of Severus' wand released the boy, and he shrugged to get his collar back in some sort of order.

"Sorry," Harry muttered to the carpet. A finger was placed under his chin, forcing him to look up.

"Come again?"

"Sorry," Harry repeated, chewing his lip as he looked at Severus. The older wizard held the younger's eyes for a few more moments, raised his eyebrow once more, and then finally let the boy go.

"Now what has you shouting like a jinxed hippogriff?" Severus asked, walking around to sit behind his desk again, giving his charge an enquiring look.

"I…" The boy broke off, and looked slightly sheepish. "I can't remember." Snape rolled his eyes, snapped his fingers. The useless parchment disappeared, and the professor pulled out a new sheet. He opened the inkbottle again and brought out a fresh quill.

"I suggest you do some of your homework," Snape said as he dipped the quill and restarted the letter.

"But can't I—"

"Do as you're told, Harry," Snape broke him off.

"But—"

"Harry James…"

"But if I could just—" He was broken off, and yelped as he was spun around and scooted into an empty corner of the study by the same type of invisible force which had hauled him into the room in the first place.

"Fifteen minutes," Snape said curtly, not looking up from his parchment. "If I hear a sound from you, it'll be thirty and you'll have a sore bum to think of." Through the corner of his eye, the Potions Master could see the boy's ears reddening, and was pleased to have finally got through to the child who had been completely unreasonable since yesterday's disaster. The professor supposed that this was to be expected, and although he himself was suffering from strange mood swings and trouble sleeping since last afternoon, he would not have himself, nor anyone else, setting a bad example for the boy, who really needed to get hold of his behaviour anyway.

"Right then." Severus broke the silence after the allotted fifteen minutes, and the boy turned to face him, entirely deflated. "Let's put this behind us and not ruin the rest of our day," he continued in a low voice, not looking up from the letter he was writing. "Why don't you go into the sitting room and start your homework. I will be out to join you shortly."

"Yes sir," Harry replied obligingly, and smiled slightly in his guardian's direction before he exited the room. He seemed to be getting used to Snape's disproportionate reactions and punishments. _I was only asking if I could go outside instead_, he reasoned with himself as he dumped his schoolbooks on the couch. He decided to do his magical homework first, in an attempt to motivate himself.

* * *

><p>When Professor Snape emerged from his office fifteen minutes later, Harry was busy scratching down answers to the questions he'd received in his Charms class, his tongue lodged firmly between his lips, his brow crumpled in concentration. The atypical behaviour of his charge almost had Snape laughing, but he settled for a smug grin instead.<p>

"Following orders I see," he remarked casually as he made his way over to the boy, peering over his shoulder.

"I do that most of the time," Harry replied somewhat cheekily, but huffed at being disturbed and hence misspelling 'effect'.

"Two f's," the older wizard added, to which Harry said nothing, but made a face. "And wipe that look off your face," he added, turning towards the bookshelf. Harry spun around in his seat.

"_How_ did you see that? _How_ did you _know_?!"

"I didn't. But I do now." The look on Snape's face made Harry positively livid with frustration.

"That's not at all fair," he declared, throwing his quill on the table and leaning back with a sigh.

"Life isn't fair," Snape replied absentmindedly as he picked up a scroll that had appeared on the table.

"What's that?" Harry enquired, curious as any self-respecting eight-year-old. Much to his chagrin, he received no answer as his guardian unrolled the parchment, and read it with furrowed brow. "Sir?" Severus kept reading, before crumpling the note in his hand, turning around and sweeping out of the quarters. Harry stared at the door for a few moments, his mouth slightly open. Deciding against being a good boy, he jumped up and hurried after the Potions Master.

* * *

><p>His boots clicked regularly against the stone floor, robes billowing behind him in the cold castle air. As much as it pained him to admit it, even to himself, he had been taken by surprise when reading the note. Normally, the Ministry took more or less a year to come to a decision on any trivial matter, not to mention something like the adoption of the Boy Who Lived. Of course, the note being from the Headmaster, it did not really contain any concrete information; however, the urgency of the tone and the writing made it abundantly clear that something of importance must have happened. He supposed, really, that he ought to have given the boy some kind of instruction before he left. He hoped – against his better judgement – that the child would have some sort of self-preservation and stay put. <em>Though that is highly unlikely.<em>

Turning a corridor, he snapped the password to the gargoyle from a distance, the passage opening just as he arrived by it. Taking two steps at a time, he was by the office door in seconds, not bothering to knock.

"Severus." The Headmaster was sitting behind his desk, his head bowed over a long piece of parchment.

"I received your note," the Potions Master said, striding through the room in four steps and seating himself across from the elder wizard.

"I've understood as much."

"Let us cut the nonsense. What did the Minister say?" Severus demanded, tired of Dumbledore's flowery words, wishing to get straight to the point. He didn't trust Harry alone in the quarters for too long.

"My dear Severus—"

"Albus, please," Severus interrupted, massaging his temples with his long, pale fingers. "Not today." Gazing pensively at the professor for a few moments, Dumbledore heaved the smallest of sighs.

"They will be unable to set a date for another month," Dumbledore said quietly. "Whether this is due to scheduling or simply politics I cannot say." Severus let his hands drop from his head, grateful for the swift reply. It did not please him, however, that they would have to wait another month for any form of progress.

"Is there no way we can speed the process up?" he enquired, folding his hands in his lap.

"I have owled the Minister, emphasising the urgency of the matter, but you know what it's like," the Headmaster replied airily. "Politics." Snape hissed under his breath, knowing all too well about so-called politics.

"Bloody dirty tricks and large sums of Galleons is all they care about," he muttered, flexing his fingers.

"Indeed." Dumbledore waved his hand, starting a fire in the fireplace. The room was beginning to get chilly as the sun disappeared behind a large, grey cloud. "How is young Harry?"

"A nuisance," Snape replied easily, raising an eyebrow at his old mentor.

"Now I'm certain that is not true," Albus smiled through his beard, his eyes twinkling through his glasses.

"The way he shouts inside, it's as though he has hearing problems," Snape retorted, not to be deterred. The child was a menace, and the sooner Dumbledore realised this, the better. He could only imagine the havoc the boy would cause once he started school.

"He's only eight," Dumbledore remarked.

"Close enough to nine to know how to behave himself," Snape argued. Albus merely smiled, and Severus decided he had left the boy to his own devices for far too long already, so he rose.

"Things to attend to as always, I presume," Albus commented.

"I have an eight-year-old alone in my quarters. That, if anything, is cause for alarm," Snape sneered, taking his leave of the Headmaster.

Exiting the office and walking through the corridors, the Potions Master sunk into thought. The delay in a new Ministry hearing meant that Black would have more than enough time to create a case for himself, not to mention find a suitably expensive attorney. Snape was rather certain that he would win the case either way; despite Sirius quickly being raised to the heavens by the British public, he had spent enough time in prison to need a thorough psychological check at St Mungo's, and even if he did pass this, he would need investigation into whether or not he wad fit as a parent. This would take months, if not a year, to complete, whilst Severus, being employed by a school, dealing with children regularly, and having Albus Dumbledore's backing, only needed a signature from the child's Godfather. He was well aware that if, _when_, he did gain permanent custody, Sirius would have to be part of the raising of the boy; there was no way Sirius or Dumbledore would ever allow Snape to separate Harry from his Godfather for ever.

Whipping his cloak around a corner, Snape headed towards the stairs descending down to the dungeons. As he started down, he saw the sole of a trainer disappear into the darkness below. Growling to himself, he kept the same steady pace as he walked down. Let the boy wait. Let him believe he was not seen. Saying nothing, the Potions Master continued down the stairs, his shoes clicking ominously as ever.

As he reached his quarters, he opened the door swiftly, and closed it as swiftly behind him. The room was empty, the only noise to be heard the clock on his desk. Tugging his cuffs into order, he strode through the room, down the short corridor, and entered his ward's room without knocking. The boy was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his Charms book open in front of him. He did not look up when Severus entered, and the man noticed easily that the child was trying to suppress his heavy breathing.

"Living room. Now." Turning around, the Potions Master stalked out of the room again, heading straight for the living room, sweeping around his desk and leaning his palms flat against the polished, wooden surface. Within seconds, the sound of small feet hurrying along the carpet met his ears, and Harry appeared around the corner, the tips of his ears already reddening in embarrassment. "Explain yourself."

"I don't know—"

"I am quite certain that I have never tolerated lying," Severus snapped immediately, glaring the boy, who fidgeted uncomfortably. "The truth. This minute."

"I just wanted to see where you went," Harry squeaked.

"If I wanted you to know where I was going, I would have told you," Snape thundered.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"If you knew, you would not have acted so deplorably."

"But I –"

"I am tiring of your excuses and ramblings, boy," the man cut him off again. "You will learn to behave yourself." Harry bit his lower lip, and tried not to shuffle around too much to avoid irritating his guardian further. _I only ran out for a little bit_, he thought miserably, wondering how the Potions Master had even known he'd been out at all. He'd been so quick running back, and the dungeons were really dark.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. Staring silently at Harry for a few moments longer, the professor then walked around the desk and grabbed hold of the boy's arm. Bending him over slightly, he landed three hard smacks to the child's behind; Harry yelped at each.

"Find yourself a corner." Harry scurried away from the angry professor, stopping with his nose in one of the corners, and trying not to reach back and rub his bum. He could not believe how easily Snape could make it sting so much, and wondered why it was always he who had to be on the receiving end. He wished Snape would meet Dudley; that would not end well. The thought of Snape smacking his cousin made Harry giggle.

"I do not want to hear a sound from you, boy, or I'll give you a proper smacking."

"Sorry, sir," Harry said quickly, his amusement immediately dampened by the threat of further punishment. Sighing as silently as he could muster, Harry leaned his forehead against the intersecting walls and closed his eyes. _It can't be too long now…_


	18. A curious boy

**I'm just on fire or something :) So here's the latest for LHG. Nothing really about the deal with Sirius, but rather a couple of episodes on some Harry/Snape bonding, which I think is in order :) **

**I hope you're all still out there; I'm alive, promise!**

**Already started chapter 19, so fingers crossed my darlings.**

**Please enjoy, please review, and please have a very Merry Christmas (or just end-of-year if you don't celebrate Christmas)!**

**Ivy**

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><p>Sun was seeping between the lush branches of the apple tree, shifting slightly every time the breeze caught hold of the thick leaves. Harry sat on one particularly lush and sturdy branch, swinging his legs back and forth as he stared pensively towards the large lake. He had, for several days, considered asking Snape if he might perhaps possibly let him go down there for a swim. The water looked so dark and calm, and the trees along its shores were deep green, their branches dipping into the water, creating the smallest of ripples when birds flapped amongst their nests.<p>

It was Saturday, and Snape had allowed himself to be convinced that going outside would be good for Harry. He hadn't even, to the boy's infinite surprise, insisted to find someone to look after him. He'd simply given him a, to Harry, disproportionally stern talking to and extracted a promise that Harry would adhere to the curfew of four 'clock, sharp. Not owning a watch had not appeared to be a problem to Harry until he was outside, at which point he simply could not find it in him to walk back to the quarters and ask for one. He just hoped that Snape would not realise this and reprimand him for it. _He would tell me off for something like that_, he sighed to himself. Having been outside for a while, he decided to stay safe, and so slid off the branch, clung onto it with his hands and, when he'd steadied himself, dropped onto the soft grass. The patch just under the branch was slightly uneven, causing Harry to twist his ankle and topple over. Swearing loudly, he clutched his ankle, still lying on the ground, pinching his eyes shut. _Ow, ow, ow_. If Snape found out he would most definitely scold him for his carelessness. _Why would you scold someone who hurt themselves anyway?_ Harry thought, affronted, despite the fact that the scenario was only an imagined one, and he did not, in fact, have any justified idea of how Snape would react.

After having been wallowing in self-pity for a good five minutes, Harry decided his ankle was all right enough for him to make his way back to the dungeons. The thought of the dark, dingy corridors made him cringe and shiver, despite the warm sunlight in which he was currently lying. Pushing himself up from the ground, he tried his foot. _Standing is all right._ Taking a few tentative steps, he found that flexing his foot hurt the most. Consequently, he walked with half a limp, in order to avoid flexing as far as possible. He hoped he didn't look too ridiculous, and that it would dissipate before he ran into his guardian.

Making his way into the castle, he felt the hairs on his arms rise as soon as he was out of the sunlight. _Should've brought a jumper_, he thought limp-skipping along the corridors and down the stairs towards the dungeons. _They really should heat the castle up. And get clocks_, he added to himself, as he still did not know what the time was. In a matter of minutes he reached the door to Snape's quarters and pulled the door open. Severus was sitting at his desk, his head bowed over some paperwork, a quill scratching furiously away. Glancing at the clock, Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief. 3.21. _Plenty of time._

"So you managed to arrive on time even without a watch," his guardian commented, still not looking up, as per usual. Harry closed the door behind him.

"Yes," he answered, trying to walk with a straight back and normal pace.

"What have you done?" Severus suddenly enquired sharply, stopping his writing and looking at his charge with a furrowed brow. Harry winced.

"Nothing. What?"

"Don't lie to me, young man," Snape immediately admonished, placing the quill on his desk, rising, and striding over to the boy. "Sit down," he ordered, pointing at the couch. Sighing, Harry turned and walked over to the couch, not even bothering to pretend he was all right anymore. As soon as he had sat down, Snape was at his side, crouching down and lifting Harry's foot; the boy winced. "What on Earth have you done?" Harry shrugged.

"I just jumped out of the tree," he replied. "It's all right, it's just a bit sore." Snape shook his head and with a lazy flick of his fingers, a small vial came soaring through the air, landing neatly in his outstretched hand. Uncorking the flask, he handed it to the boy.

"Drink this," he ordered. Harry wrinkled his nose slightly at the thick brownish liquid; he pinched his nose with one hand and brought the flask to his mouth with the other. In a quick sip he downed the whole thing, coughing and spitting afterwards.

"Eugh!"

"Why are children always so reluctant to get well?" Snape asked the air in general, taking the flask back as he stood. "Now lie back, and put that foot on a cushion. It should be all right in half an hour or so."

"Can't I go to my room?" Harry asked hopefully.

"No. I want to keep an eye on you." With that said, Snape turned back towards his desk and resumed his writing. Harry sighed deeply, letting his head fall back onto the backrest. It was going to be a long half hour.

* * *

><p>"Normally I wouldn't ask, but it really would be… quite helpful," Severus said delicately as he faced the Deputy Headmistress. McGonagall peered at him over the top of her glasses, her lips pursed, as was her custom.<p>

"And normally I would say yes, but today I'm afraid I have prior commitments. I'm really only here to fetch some papers, and then I will be on my way home again." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why don't you just bring him along?" He gave the older woman a most disdained look.

"Bring him along? Minerva, he is an eight-year-old boy that appears to be incapable of keeping out of trouble for more than five minutes at a time. I am absolutely not bringing him to my home." McGonagall could not resist rolling her eyes at this comment.

"For heaven's sake Severus, you are aiming to adopt the boy; of course you will need to bring him home at some point. Or are you planning on living in the castle permanently?" The reasoning look she was giving him drove him to the brink of anger, but he managed to control himself.

"I am not wont to bring a child into that house before I have… proofed it, Minerva, as I am sure you will understand."

"If all you need to do is pick up some potions ingredients then I am certain that Harry could wait in the hall, no?" Shaking his head, Severus turned to leave. "Oh and Severus?" Stopping, he turned his head in her direction. "Do have an enjoyable summer." He nodded curtly, and swept out of her office.

He had hoped that McGonagall would have been able to keep an eye on Harry for a couple of hours, allowing him to go home and go through his stocks carefully, with no disturbance or nuisance hindering his work. However, with the Headmaster gone Merlin knew where he was faced with a dilemma. Either, he could find an elf to look after Harry, or he could bring him along. Neither option seemed safe and sound to him, _thank you very much_. Shaking his head to himself, he turned down towards the dungeons and was soon back in the quarters.

The boy in question was sitting on the couch, paging through an illustrated book on the basic theories of magic. Much to Severus' chagrin, Dumbledore had provided a number of children's books on magic that Harry could read. In Snape's opinion, if one was not capable of reading a proper book, one was best off not reading at all. Pictures only made one lazy, and took away from the true skill and enjoyment of reading a good book. Nevertheless he had accepted the books on behalf of the boy, and was reluctant to admit that they seemed to have been helpful in Harry's lessons.

He looked up when Snape entered, and put the book aside.

"Where's McGonagall?" he asked, trying very hard to hide his excitement.

"That's _Professor_ McGonagall to you," Snape chided rather than answering the question.

"Yes sir. So?" Snape did not reply for a moment, but walked over to his desk and shuffled some papers around, more for something to do than actual necessity.

"Professor McGonagall is busy. You will come with me." Harry punched the air and grinned at Severus. "Wipe that look off your face."

"All right," he said, still beaming. "This'll be wicked!" Snape narrowed his eyes and swept over to the couch, standing in front of the boy with his arms crossed across his chest. Harry leaned back, chewing his lip, looking up at his guardian with wide eyes.

"Some rules for this trip." The boy did his best not to huff. Severus raised an eyebrow in response, but did not comment. "When we arrive at the house you will wait in the hall and not go into any other rooms. You will not touch anything. You will not even think about touching anything. Am I making myself absolutely clear?" Harry thought he was overreacting a bit; they were only going to his house, but he nodded nevertheless.

"Yes sir." Snape gazed down at him for a moment longer before turning away.

"Go fetch a jacket; we're leaving now."

"A jacket? But it's warm outs—"

"Just do as you're told," Severus interrupted, heading for his own bedroom. Harry sighed and slid of the couch, padding through the hall and into his room. He picked up his thin denim jacket and then headed back for the living room. Snape was standing by the fireplace already, and raised an eyebrow at the boy's jacket.

"What?" Harry questioned in defence.

"Mind your tone," was his guardian's only response before he threw the powder into the fireplace and, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, stepped into the flames.

"Spinner's end."

After being pulled, whirled, spun (Harry wasn't sure) from Hogwarts to Severus' childhood home, the two stepped into a dark parlour, in which every surface was covered in dust. Severus kept his hand on Harry's shoulder until he had steadied himself.

"Now do not move an inch," he warned, jabbing his finger towards Harry's face.

"How long will you be?"

"Fifteen minutes or so. I need to check what I have; we will likely have to go on to Diagon Alley and buy what I haven't got." The boy's eyes once again widened with excitement, and so the older wizard took hold of his arms and looked him straight in the eyes. "Do _not_ move. Do not touch _anything_. Understood?" Harry, looking slightly forlorn, nodded.

"Yes I know." Snape nodded curtly before striding out of the room and soon ascending a creaking staircase. Harry sighed to himself, looking around in the room. There were two neat sofas surrounding the fireplace; behind the one on the left was a large bookcase filled with old, leather-bound tomes. There was clearly a window on the left wall, as thick drapes were hanging across, creating the dark, dingy atmosphere. Straight ahead was a large portrait of an old woman, under which stood a small coffee table with an empty vase and a frame lying down. To the right was the arch through which Snape had exited and another bookcase, which had what looked like curtains attached to it. The room was rather empty, but would probably have been really nice if it were lit up and dusted off and used. That was probably the key: it didn't look as though Snape had been in his house for a long time. _Does he come here for Christmas?_ Harry wondered. It must have been at least that long since someone had set foot in the house. It seemed odd to Harry that one would not return home when one had the opportunity. Living in an old, cold castle with a few hundred teenagers couldn't be great for anyone.

He was absent-mindedly tracing patterns in the dust on the dark, wooden floor, trying not to get dizzy by the thick air. He glanced up at the thick drapes, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Perhaps the window could be opened… But he wasn't supposed to move or touch anything. But Snape had only been gone for about five minutes; he was absolutely sure that he could not possibly handle another ten minutes in the room. He had two choices, as he saw it: either try to open the window, or leave the room and hope that the air was better somewhere else. Or he could go and find Snape he supposed, but somehow that seemed like the least reasonable option.

Harry took a tentative step forwards. The floorboards did not, unexpectedly, creak. He held his breath for a moment, but Snape did not seem to know that he had moved; the house remained silent. That was another thing that bothered him. It was so _quiet_. Nothing could be heard from outside, and he couldn't even hear a clock in a neighbouring room. He took another step. Still no reaction. Breathing out a gust of air, he walked over to the drapes. They were dark and heavy, pooling on the floor, as though they were made for a window five times as large as the one they were currently covering. Harry shook his head, wondering why his guardian was such an alternative character, and grabbed hold of the drapes. Heavy they were indeed, and it took all the power Harry possessed in his little arms to pull them aside. Sunlight streamed into the room, blinding the boy. As soon as the light filled the room, he heard an inhuman scream from behind him, and he immediately covered his ears. It seemed to make no difference; it was as though the scream was inside his head. He turned around. Several of the books in the bookcase by the door were shaking furiously; some of them fell to the floor and opened up. Grotesque paintings on their pages had their mouths agape, emitting the dreadful sound. Harry had no idea how to stop the noise, and so he simply stood by the window, holding his ears and clenching his eyes shut, hoping it would stop soon. And miraculously, it did. Slowly, he opened his eyes and let go of his ears. By the bookcase stood a very irate Professor Snape.


End file.
